This Dream, That Boy, This Life
by AfricanChieftess
Summary: THREEQUEL :: The story of that boy a year after "The Darkness before Dawn", the final chapter in the Nathan/Haley/Jamie series. The title plays on the Cowboy Junkies' This Street, That Man, This Life.
1. Chapter 1: Premise

**Disclaimer: all creative rights to the One Tree Hill characters belong to their original creator(s). Any songs and copyrighted lyrics used in this story also do not belong to me.**

* * *

><p><strong>PREMISE<strong>

To say that they were cursed or unlucky in some way would not be quite incorrect.

What they've been through is so unbelievable that their friends marvel about what they did to deserve it. Those family and friends have wondered if they are being punished for something that a disobedient, unruly or rebellious ancestor did.

Nathan, Haley and Jamie Scott. A family of three that has been through enough pain in several years that some are fortunate to have never encountered. A family of three whose life together seems to have been marked by one form of tragedy or another.

It started a few years ago with a racetrack accident. It was followed by a train accident. Then a bus accident. And in two of the three, a little boy is left with only one of his caretakers.

A little boy with wide eyes like his mother's, but a stunning cerulean to her striking muddy-brown. A little boy with dark-blonde hair that is deepening to black like his father's. A little boy with a warm smile, a big heart and a joyous spirit. A little boy who has experienced pain that a child of four, any child no less, should never have to face.

It was the beginning of the summer after college graduation that yet another misfortune struck that Scott family. . . . .


	2. Chapter 2

"You promise you're gonna be here for my birthday?" he asks for the nth time, even though his birthday is not for another month.

"I promise."

Jamie traces a finger over her chest. "Cross your heart?"

Haley takes his hand, holding it over her lips before placing a kiss on it. "Cross my heart. We won't be gone for long. After three days, we'll be back."

"Sunday?"

She rubs her nose against his in one of their eskimo kisses. "Sunday."

He seems satisfied. "Okay."

Throwing his arms around her neck, fingers clenched into tiny fists, he nuzzles against her shoulder. "And I promise I'll be a good boy."

She laughs softly, rubbing his back, already missing him. "I know."

They're trying to raise him well, but he seems to be getting it right on his own sometimes. His father says that it's a trait he got from her sensibleness.

"Hey."

Haley lifts her eyes to see her husband and mother-in-law. "Hey. All set?"

She's not entirely comfortable taking this trip, having had a nagging doubt at the back of her mind. Nathan smiles warmly, knowing that she's still feeling uneasy about leaving Jamie behind.

"All set. Someone will meet us at the airport."

She nods, biting down on her lower lip, still swaying slightly on the spot with Jamie. "Good. Good," she responds absently.

There's that dark feeling churning in the pit of her stomach, having increased the closer their departure approached.

_"Boarding call for flight five-two-six to Montana. Please proceed to gate two and have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in ten minutes. Thank you."_

Haley looks up at the ceiling, as if scouting for the voice coming from the PA system. Kissing the side of her son's face, she inhales that pleasant scent of bath wash and lotion. "You want to say bye to your dad again before we go?"

Jamie nods in the curve of her neck. "I love you to pieces, Mama."

Choked up with emotion for some reason, she responds throatily, "I love you, too, baby."

The little boy pulls away and turns to his father, arms held out. Some may say that they cuddle him too much but they don't care; he's theirs, their only child, and they won't get to hold him like this forever. A time will come where even being in the same room together will be nauseous for his adolescent self.

"Why can't I come with you?" he asks, his small palms resting on his father's shoulders.

"Because it's a very long trip and I don't want you to be too tired."

"But I'm a big boy. I'm five," he pouts, a purse of the lips so similar to that of his mother.

"You're not yet five," Nathan chuckles.

Jamie lights up. "But my birthday is coming."

"It is?"

"Daddy!"

Nathan laughs again. "I've not forgotten. When you're bigger, I'll take you with me and we can even see the world."

"Really?" Jamie asks with that childlike excitement, thinking about the whole world. "The _whole_ world?"

"As much as we can."

He's grinning widely, his small baby teeth showing. "How much bigger do I gotta be?"

"Like me."

"That will take forever!"

"Forever? Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"But that means you're going to be little for a longer time." If it were possible to keep him forever his little boy, he'd be selfish enough to let it happen.

"But I wanna grow up."

"Who will be stepping on my back to make me feel better after a game, then?"

Jamie frowns, his face scrunched up in concentration.

"Tell you what," his father begins, trying to hide a smile, "when your mom and I come back, you can give me an answer, okay?"

"Okay. I'll think about it."

Nathan can't resist laughing at the seriousness of his son's answer. "That's my boy."

"And you're my daddy," he giggles, like every time they exchange those similar lines.

Jamie wraps his small hands around his father's neck. "I told Mama I'll be good for Grandma."

As Nathan rubs his son's soft hair, his mind takes a trip down memory lane. If he got home before bedtime, Jamie would come trotting at the sound of his voice, face alive, arms wide open, calling, "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" Then Nathan would scoop him up, toss him in the air, and then hug him close just like this. It's unbelievable that he's not two anymore.

"I know you will."

_"This is the boarding call for passengers booked on flight five-two-six to Montana. Please proceed to gate two immediately. I repeat. This is the boarding call for flight five-two-six to Montana. Please proceed to gate two immediately. Thank you."_

Giving him a kiss to his forehead, Nathan says to Jamie in a low voice, "I love you, bud."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

Nathan puts him down, and his grandmother takes his hand. She says, "Have a safe flight and have fun."

"We'll call when we get there," Nathan tells her with a hug.

Deb returns the hug as much as she can with her free hand, patting his back as they part. "You have the boarding passes?"

He refrains from rolling his eyes at her forgetfulness that he's not a teenager anymore. "Yes, Mother."

"Am I not allowed to ask?"

Haley, amused at the direction the conversation is going between the two, crouches down to her son's level. "We'll call tonight."

Jamie nods, thinking about the house on the beach that they're going to live in all summer. He likes the beach very, very much. "Can I go to the beach?"

Knowing where his thoughts are headed, she says, "Not alone."

He huffs. She gives him a pointed look. "Grandma Deb and Grandpa Allan can take you. Or even Uncle Lucas."

"And the store?"

He is quite fixated on doing things on his own, always telling her that he's big enough to go places by himself.

"Not even the store. Promise me that you won't go anywhere alone, James."

It's his mother's serious voice and he takes it seriously. "I promise."

She smiles. When she smiles or sings to him, he always feels better. "One more hug, okay?"

She gives him a kiss on the lips and another hug, and his father plays with his hair before they say goodbye. Then he and Grandma Deb wave until his parents disappear into the crowd.

* * *

><p>As they walk past the check-in counter and down the hallway towards the gates, that bad feeling in Haley's gut builds up.<p>

"Are you okay?" Nathan asks with concern.

Haley nods vigorously, as if trying to convince herself that she's fine, her glossy, chocolate-coloured ponytail bouncing with the movement.

"Yeah," she smiles weakly.

"No, you're not," he states matter-of-factly.

She grins, not surprised that he caught her lying. "Am I that obvious?"

"To me you are."

Six years of marriage, and they know each other more than they know themselves. This weekend will be a proper honeymoon for them, after their first celebratory was two days in Nathan's apartment. Primarily, it has been arranged for Nathan to take a tour of the Billings Bulldogs, but they'll squeeze in some alone time. They renewed their vows in the spring, but they didn't get to go on a romantic getaway far from town like honeymooners would.

He throws an arm around her shoulders. "It'll be okay, Hales. It's only a three-day trip and a three-hour plane ride."

"Three-and-a-half," she corrects.

He chuckles. "Three-and-a-half. And before you know it, we'll be back here enjoying the rest of the summer."

She wraps an arm around his waist, leaning her head on his chest. "I can't wait."

He feels the same. For the first time in years, none of them is taking up a summer job, opting to relax before the school year begins and Haley is off to teaching, before basketball season starts and he's traveling for days on end. But knowing his wife, she'll probably take a few shifts at the café out of boredom.

"Me, either," he responds as they get to the airport's security checkpoint.

* * *

><p>Jamie skips while still holding onto his grandmother's hand as they head towards the car. "Can we go to the beach tomorrow?"<p>

He likes making sand castles, but most of all, when his father is with him, they go in the water.

"Sure, honey. You want to see the beach house?"

"I want to!" he replies enthusiastically.

"We'll set aside some time to unpack the things that are still in boxes. Will you help me?"

Apart from their clothes, most of everything they packed up from their apartment in Durham is still in boxes.

"Do I gotta?" he whines. Like any little boy, he doesn't give much thought to chores.

"Yes," she chuckles.

"Is Grandpa Dan gonna be there?"

Although her feelings simmer with a cross between dislike and impassivity towards her ex-husband, Deb appreciates his unfeigned affection when it comes to their grandson. Though unsaid, it's their second chance at parenting.

Unlocking the back seat, she settles him in before answering, "I don't think so."

He looks disappointed. As far as Deb knows, Jamie is not aware of the complete family history but he loves his grandfather.

"You could give him a call," she suggests. She's never been fond of that sad look on his face, sometimes slipping him a cookie or two before dinner when he gives her the puppy-dog eyes.

"Really?" he grins, looking so much like Nathan at the same age.

"Of course," she says, kissing his cheek. "I think he'd like that."

She slides behind the wheel, and as she's driving towards the airport's exit, Jamie says, "Can we go see Uncle Lucas?"

* * *

><p>They move past the gate along with the crowd.<p>

"Want to hear something cool?" Nathan asks, his fingers touching on her elbow.

"Sure."

"This is our chance to join the mile high club."

There's the trace of a grin in his voice.

Haley bursts out in a soft laugh, colour creeping up her face. "How long have you been waiting to share that with me?"

"Since this is the first time we're flying together, I thought I'd plant the seed."

She giggles softly, poking him lightly in the ribs. "Keep dreaming."

"I am," he answers, a wide smile on his face.

He whispers wicked things in her ear of what they can do on the plane as they walk, making her blush so much that she's afraid her ears are steaming.

"It's not a private jet."

Her face is hot and her voice feels rough. Truth be told, the man has a way of affecting her moods in a heartbeat.

"Think of how creative we can get, though."

"It's a three-hour flight."

"Three-and-a-half," he corrects with a wink. "Besides, we've managed before in far worse places, and had wild, hot sex in those worse places."

"Jesus, Nathan," she admonishes, looking behind them to see if anyone overheard. The woman paces behind them is on her phone and chattering animatedly.

"We're married, baby. It's expected that we have sex. Jamie is obviously evidence of it."

"Oh my God, will you stop?" she breathes in shame like he's talking about them turning to auto-erotic asphyxiation for a thrill.

"Remember how quiet we have to be when we visit Grandma May? Good times," he chuckles. "When was the last time we had loud sex, do you remember? I love Jamie but I don't like having to keep it down when you're beside, above or below me."

"I'm going to kill you, Nathan Scott, if you don't…Oh."

She tugs at the hem of his long-sleeved light blue shirt that draws attention to the colour of his eyes. "Honey?"

"I'm willing to compromise," he continues, ignoring her. "I know some of my suggestions are a little farfetched for the air but we could try them at the hotel."

"We should try them all at the hotel," she answers, pointing ahead with her chin.

The certainty in her voice makes him refocus on their surroundings. He halts in his step, dropping his arm from her shoulders, groaning at the sight of the small aircraft before them.

"Well, shit."


	3. Chapter 3

"There goes my dream," Nathan sighs dramatically.

"Don't you mean fantasy?" Haley says, wiggling in her seat trying to find a comfortable position.

"Dream, fantasy, wish. Why couldn't we be flying to Paris or New York or someplace big? I'm sure you can get away with some shit on those huge commercial flights."

She shakes her head at his childlike disappointment to them not joining the mile high club. He's never been ashamed to tell her what he wants, and that includes whispering to her that he's horny during a family gathering.

"They can't use a huge plane to Montana. I don't think there are too many people from Tree Hill who fly there often. This is the only flight each week."

The aircraft isn't built for more than fifty people, and if they were to be locked up in the bathroom together, people would notice.

"Show me some solidarity, Hales."

"I'm only saying."

He twists in his seat, the process of buckling his seat belt forgotten. "I'm tempted to hightail it out of here and board a plane for New York."

"On whose dime?"

"Haley."

Kneading the back of his neck with her fingers, she laughs, looking at him through half closed eyes. "Alright. You need to let it go, baby. I'm sure we have a very nice hotel room waiting for us in Montana. We'll do it loud, wild and hot like you want. Not to mention when you're in the pros…"

She lets the sentence hang back suggestively. She realizes that her temperature has spiked a little from her response.

"Yeah?"

His face is hopeful, a look that reminds her so much of their little boy.

Haley can't help but laugh. "Double yeah."

Eyes twinkling with mischief, mouth turned up in a grin, he brings his face closer to hers and touches his lips to hers briefly. He leans back on the headrest, securing the seat belt over his waist.

"You're such cool beans, Haley Scott."

She lays her head on his shoulder, feeling drowsy even before take-off. "You're pretty cool beans, too, Nathan Scott."

* * *

><p>"You need help with that?" Allan asks, pointing to the basketball that seems enormous in the boy's small hands.<p>

"No. I'm okay."

Jamie attempts to tuck it under his arm like his father does but it slips to the floor. It bounces lightly up and down, and he runs after it before Grandma Deb scolds him for scuffing her hardwood floors.

Allan shakes his head in amusement. "Are you sure you don't want any help?"

Nodding defiantly in a way that makes him look older than his four years, Jamie answers, "I'm sure. Are you gonna play?"

Smiling at him, Allan pulls the front door open. "Maybe. Hang on."

He crouches, tightening the laces on the boy's shoes. "Wouldn't want you to trip."

"Thank you."

His mom and dad always tell him that it is polite to say thank you when someone says or does something nice for him.

"Has Mama called?"

Allan grins, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. "Not yet. They're still on the plane but I'm sure they'll call when they get there."

Jamie frowns. "What if I'm sleeping?"

"You want me to wake you up?"

"Yes," he grins.

"Don't be late for dinner."

They both turn to Deb, answering in chorus, "Okay."

It's a short drive to the River Court, made faster because it's evening and they are heading in a direction that's against traffic. Dusk is settling, and the summer sun has splashed the sky with vibrant colours of pink, red, orange and gold. There are two figures playing a heated game on the court. They both stop at the hum of the car's engine, the one known as Skills stealing the ball and dunking it in the net with a victorious roar.

"Cheater," his blonde-haired friend grumbles.

"Smart," the caramel-coloured man retorts with a laugh.

"Uncle Lucas!" Jamie yells when he steps out of the car, gripping the basketball firmly in his hands as he runs towards his uncle.

"Hey, sport! Long time no see."

The boy places the ball at his feet to return his uncle's high five. "I saw you today, remember?"

Lucas laughs, picking up the giggling boy and throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "And you beat me in the game. You'll pay for that, little rascal," his uncle says playfully, running in a circle.

Jamie is laughing delightedly, the sound echoing in the empty basketball court.

"Yo, J-Luke."

"Tell Uncle Lucas I'm sorry for winning, Uncle Skills!"

The boy shrieks again, spreading his arms out as if to fly.

"And I'm telling your uncle Lucas to put you down because your mother will kill me if anything happens to you," Allan says from behind them.

Knowing how crazy his best friend is over her son's safety, Lucas puts his nephew back on his feet. "Are you dizzy?" he asks, a hand on Jamie's small shoulder.

He makes a retching sound, his hand clutching his stomach.

Alarmed, Lucas groans, "Oh, God. Jamie…"

Haley will definitely kill him if Jamie lands on his face and scrapes or swells something.

And then Jamie is laughing, his blue eyes shining in the twilight. "Gotcha!" he laughs, and runs towards Skills.

Luke shakes his head, unable to stop the laugh that escapes his lips. "He is unquestionably Nathan's son," he says to Allan, looking at his nephew as he dribbles the ball around an amused Skills.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Allan replies. "Have you seen how obscenely gratifying it is to them when they pull off a prank?"

Over spring break, during the chaos before Nathan and Haley's wedding, Deb just about had a heart attack after Nathan set up a prosthetic severed hand and a fake rubber pool of blood on the kitchen counter, while Jamie shouted to her for help. They recorded the entire thing, and they played it over and over again. Deb is still unable to locate the video, no matter how many passion pudding cups and cookies she bribes Jamie with.

"Don't remind me," Lucas visibly shudders, a victim of several tricks. "Can you imagine what mischief they'll get up to now that they've moved back?"

"I think I can handle it. Having them back is much better," Allan grins, slapping Luke's back lightly. "Come on. I'm expected to play tonight. That is, if you can keep up?"

He raises an eyebrow, teasingly challenging him.

"Don't let my defective heart fool you, old man," Lucas counters, rubbing his palms together.

The older man rolls the sleeves of his shirt towards his elbows. "Old? I'm forty-eight years young, my friend."

"Jamie and Lucy call you grandpa. That certifies you as old."

* * *

><p>A hard jolt wakes her up. Haley runs a hand over her face, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The blue blanket around her shoulders that wasn't there when she fell asleep slips slowly to the floor.<p>

"What's happening?" she asks quietly as she turns to Nathan.

"Must be turbulence," he answers, touching his seat belt to make sure it's intact.

Sitting up straighter and breathing out, she checks her own belt and clutches the supports of her seat. She does not like the looks of this. She feels tense as she glances around the dark airplane, murmurs, whispers and seat belts clicking closed echoing around her.

There's a deafening rumble that makes the plane lurch and shake violently, and people start to yell. She doesn't make a sound, frozen in place by fear, her thoughts whirling. She has never found the idea of flying appealing, but it wasn't a paralyzing fear. Logically, planes are the safest medium of long-distance transportation, and odds of her first plane ride crashing were low.

The flight attendant's voice comes over the intercom. _"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened until the captain has turned off the overhead signs. Thank you. I repeat, please remain…"_

Is this what that dark feeling she had been having was all about? Plummeting to their death? Or being blown up to pieces in the stratosphere?

"Hey."

She doesn't respond. Nathan reaches his hand to touch her face, his knuckles brushing against her skin. She turns her head slowly to him, her eyes focusing on him.

"Hey," he repeats softly.

Blue eyes stare back at her with worry, knitted brows causing creases on his forehead. Her hand grabs his, and she instantly feels comforted at the contact. Her brown eyes scan his, the fear apparent in hers.

"Nathan…" she whispers.

"I'm here."

There's a flash of lightning that illuminates the stricken faces of the plane's passengers. Everyone seems to be concluding that this may be more than turbulence.

Suddenly, the plane shakes again. It's more violent this time, as if it hit something, jutting them from side to side.

Crying out, Haley grabs Nathan as people scream around them, items falling out from the overhead bins and scattering down the aisle. The yellow oxygen masks drop down from the ceiling as the jet plane starts to drift downwards.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," _the commanding voice says over the speakers.

Silence follows.

_"Please listen carefully. I'm sorry to report that we have a problem with our engines. Please reach under your seats for your life vest. We are crash landing this plane into the water."_

Her stomach rocks. From air to water? From being blown up to being torn into shreds on impact?

"Oh my G-God…N-Nathan…"

She's so traumatized that she can barely move.

"I'm right here."

Haley clings to him, her body trembling, her eyes shut, praying that it's just some turbulence that will pass.

The plane tilts all of a sudden, and they are pushed forward, but firmly held in place by their seat belts. She screams and holds onto him tightly, afraid of letting go. The plane is vibrating and shaking, careening towards the earth.

"We're going to _die_!" the man behind them cries out with fear, his voice muffled behind his mask but his words clear.

Nathan's jaw clenches. He wants to tell the man to shut up but he can't. It fills him with more horror than he can contemplate that this could be the end.

"One in eight million," her voice almost a whisper.

"What?"

"There are only one in eight million plane crashes," Haley repeats just as quietly. "It's happening again, Nathan."

Her teeth are chattering, her whole body shaking from a central part so deep that she can't pinpoint. "This t-time, he…he…Ja—"

She can't complete the sentence from the stark terror. Have they been dodging Death with all they've been through? Has Death finally come to collect?

Framing her face in his hands, he looks into her eyes, trying not to show fear. "We'll be okay, Hales. We'll get back home safely."

He's not sure he believes it himself. Gulping and sobbing, she nods, her hands around his wrists, her thumbs rubbing along his skin. He hastily find the life vests beneath their seats, assisting her with hers before adorning his own. He reaches above them for the oxygen masks, helping her with hers, too, before placing his own. He may look calm as he does all of that, but he's scared shitless from the knowledge that they may not be okay.

Cries and screams resonate around them as they hold each other in comfort. Someone is reciting the Lord's Prayer aloud in staccato amidst their tears and someone else is singing a hymn. Another jerk brings forth another round of ear-splitting screams and cries around the cabin.

Nathan pulls away the mask from his face, leaning in closer to Haley. He kisses her forehead, his lips lingering on her warm skin. He inhales softly to remember her scent, breathing in that delicious vanilla that encompasses her. He could shout to be heard over the screaming passengers and roaring engines but this…this is for her ears only. "I love you, Haley."

There's a certain calmness that overcomes him as he whispers the words to her. Haley lifts up her head from his shoulder, pulling away her own mask with trembling fingers. Her eyes are swimming with tears, her mind replaying their life together. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to leave their son alone. She wants a career and a life, she wants to see her boy grow up, she wants to grow old with Nathan.

"Always?"

He smiles, his eyes traveling over her face, memorizing each feature that he already knows by heart; the eyes he's always losing himself in, the cheeks he pinches playfully, the lips that he loves kissing.

"Always, baby. Always and forever."

He captures her mouth in a sweet kiss, a flood of memories washing down of the hundreds of kisses they've shared before. The divinity, warmth and love that's been in all of them is not lacking in this one, but there's a desperation, a hunger, and a need of that to survive. Together.

"And I love you, Nathan. So much. I l-love you so, so much…" she says brokenly against his lips.

They kiss again before replacing the masks, their fingers intertwined as the plane plummets faster and faster towards the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

The plane plows into the water, the impact of metal on the icy-cold lake like an explosion. Everything is eclipsed by silence, the screaming voices quietened like the crash has cut them off.

He is pitched over so hard that the seat belt snaps and he's jerked out of the seat. The hammerblow slams him back into the seat, and he feels the wrenching pain all the way to his spine. The water is beyond freezing, so cold that it has seeped right through his skin and bones to touch the essence of his soul.

Nathan can't feel her beside him, grasping nothing but that bitter cold water that's slipping through his fingers as the plane sinks downwards. The chilly water rushes violently around him, like a storm whose epicentre is in his ears, a strong current that keeps him under.

And then there's a stillness that makes him feel heavy. Almost lethargic. He sinks deep into the comfort of the weightiness, solid ground seemingly endless to reach and sink into.

Heaviness. Darkness. Light.

His eyes then shoot open, and a bubble escapes his lips. A quick glance around shows a plane that is half intact, with the half he's in missing a chunk of its roof.

Keeping his lips pressed together to lock in the little air he has left, Nathan kicks his legs through the clear water and slips past the empty chairs, floating upward towards the surface. Towards air.

He flings himself out of the water with a loud shout after what seems like an eternal swim. His face is immediately pelted by the on-going rain. He takes long huge breaths into his burning lungs. His mind is fuzzy but the first thought is of her. He needs to find her.

The life vest around his neck is lying limp, deflated, and he chucks it over his head. His shoulder is sore, the one that was operated on after his accident last year. But he doesn't care about himself right now. His wife is missing.

Fat droplets hit his face as he squints against the pouring rain to look around the floating debris for her. "Haley!"

He waits a few seconds to hear her voice calling his name, but nothing. The water sways around him, like a tidal wave, carrying with it things from the flight; papers, clothing, a torn pillow, a broken seat.

"Haley!"

Something solid bumps into him and he whips his head to it. Not something, someone. Someone female with dark hair.

He flinches in shock. "Ha…"

His mouth feels full of sand despite the rain as his shaking hand turns them around by the shoulder. He finds himself looking into the face of a stranger.

"What the hell!" the woman screams.

It's not her.

"Are you okay?" he asks her.

In petrified horror, the woman pushes him back roughly, swimming away rapidly as if she has somewhere to be. Relief melded with panic courses through him. Where the hell is Haley!?

"Haley!"

He needs to find her. Even though she's a good swimmer, she wasn't very alert before they crashed into the water. Anything could have happened to her…

"Haley!"

He doesn't know where to look. There are floating bodies around him, people moaning and crying, and none of them is her. The plane was split into two but he doesn't know which part he was sucked into and which part she could be in.

"Haley!"

As he's calling out, he catches a flash of colour ahead amidst fragments of the wreckage. Pink. A very familiar and unmistakable pink, a plastic bracelet he got out of a packet of Cracker Jacks in high school.

He doesn't waste time, starting to swim frantically towards that strip of colour. Terrified, he focuses on it as he drives himself against the waving water, muttering and cursing at Mother Nature out of fear and fury. He can't get to her fast enough. His clothes feel bulky, like his pockets are stashed with rocks that are impeding his progress. Lightning flashes, thunder roars, the wind howls, but he is determined.

_"Haley!"_ his thoughts scream.

His breath catches when he finally gets to her. She's lying face down, her arms outstretched like wings, her wedding ring and the pink Cracker Jack bracelet just-visible. It's her.

His chest feels tight as he turns her on her back. Everything fades away. She's pale, her lips blue as the rain falls on her face, leaving thin streams over her cheeks as it drips.

"Oh, God, no! No, no, no…Haley!" he grates, dragging her hair away from her face.

He shakes her, he pats her cheeks, kicking his legs to stay afloat in the ice-cold water, shouting her name over and over. "Haley! _Haley!_"

She's not moving. Cold. Motionless. Limp. He leans his ear to her nose. She's not breathing.

"Hales? Hales, wake up. Haley!"

Struggling to remember something about survival, he looks around, spotting a floating piece of metal not far from where they are. He puts an arm under her torso to keep her head above water, the fatigue and pain gone as he swims, dragging her against him.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…"

He's trying to ignore it but the paleness of her face sends kilojoules of fear through him; jolts announcing that he could be losing her. Or he could have already lost her, again.

"Don't leave me, baby," he pleads, trying not to scream from the shank of severe fright lodged in his throat. "Don't go. We've been through too much…"

Her train accident. His bus accident. Comas. They survived it all. This is just one more thing to survive. He can't lose her.

Treading water, he hoists her freezing body on the floating piece and lays her out on her back. It's the door of the plane, large enough for the two of them. He lifts himself up onto it, adjusting his position with one leg on either side of her waist as he tries to balance them on the piece of debris.

He takes off her life jacket, placing the semi-inflated orange material under her head. He tries to remember how to perform CPR. They had a First Aid class in sophomore year back in high school, but he was so hung over that he didn't pay attention. He will never forgive himself if it costs him the love of his life.

Relying more on things he's watched on TV, he tilts her head back, pinches her nose closed with his fingers, and breathes into her mouth. "Breathe, Haley…"

He's unsteady and shivering, his eyes blinking rapidly against tears and rain. For him, it's just silence, the pumping of his hands, and his whispers to her.

"You have to wake up, you hear me?" he mutters harshly, watching for her chest to rise.

She remains still, every trace of life, warmth and Haleyness having been drained. How long has she been unresponsive? Will she come out of this okay?

"Is she okay?" someone asks from behind him.

He doesn't answer, too absorbed in the rhythm, steadfastly working on bringing his wife back; he breathes into her mouth, and then pumps her chest as he counts to ten. He doesn't know how long he's been at it but he keeps going, that sense of panic in him spreading to his bones.

"One, two, three, four…"

His heart and voice are breaking as he pleads with her. His arms are tired. Just when he thinks his pounding chest will rip out of his body, just as he feels his strength splintering, her chest heaves and she jerks upwards.

She coughs once, twice. Her back arches hard and she rolls to her side, coughing over and over, water gushing out of her mouth. It's one of the best sights he's ever seen in his life.

A wave of relief like he's never felt before crashes over him. He breathes out heavily, loudly, shakily, his heart hammering against his chest. He doesn't know whether to laugh, cry or scream when he sees her body wracking.

Nathan pushes her hair away from her face as she leans over the floating door, gagging and vomiting out lake water.

And then she's gasping, taking in lungfuls of air.

"Hales."

She blinks repeatedly in his direction, her big, unforgettable brown eyes filled with fright and shock. Her whole body shakes beneath him. Everything inside him trembles.

"What…What's happening?" she croaks, her voice hoarse, her throat itchy.

He just tells her, "You're okay."

Recognition dawns in her eyes. She throws her arms around him, her cheek resting on his chest. They're both shaking as their arms are wrapped around each other in a wet embrace, soaked to the skin, pressed against each other, unaware of anything else around them.

He draws her away from him, one hand on the back of her head, the other running his fingers down the sides of her face. He peppers kisses over every inch of her face, her eyelids, the ones he thought would be shut forever.

"You scared me."

She smiles shakily, and he takes it as a sign that she's going to be okay. She sees his pain and fear. Her heart breaks.

He kisses her hard, possessively, saying a lot of things with the kiss, his body still humming and shaking with the fear that had consumed him. Her lips quiver and she starts to cry, disbelieving that she could have died. Or that she died.

Comforting her, he pulls her to his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head. She's wracked with sobs, which give release to the rush of the tears in his eyes. Even with his arms around her as tightly as he can get them, it doesn't feel like it's enough. He had lived a life without her once and if it had happened again…

They lean into each other in the embrace, stunned and relieved, afraid of breaking if they separate.

* * *

><p>"Grandpa said he'll wake me up when Mama calls."<p>

Jamie hops on the bed, jumping up and down in his "Wild Thing" monkey-print pajamas, the bedsprings creaking faintly at the movement. "I wanna tell Daddy about the game. You shoulda seen Grandpa. He jumped!"

He makes a dunking motion with his hands, half suspended in the air in a jump. "It was so cool."

"I bet it was. Okay, get in," Deb tells him with a smile, straightening out the comforter.

"I'm not sleepy!" he protests with a shriek, switching to jumping jacks.

"It's past your bedtime, young man."

He stops jumping, kneeling in the middle of the bed and sitting back on his legs. "But I don't have school tomorrow."

She tickles his stomach, making him squeal in delight. "How about I read you a story?"

He's laughing uncontrollably as he answers, "Okay."

She pulls the covers over him up to his shoulders, reaching for the books on the bedside table.

"Which one do you want?"

He looks at the pile closely, pointing to a book with a light blue cover. "This one."

"Are you saying you want pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?"

He grins. "Can I?"

She's laughing as she stretches out beside him. "Maybe. You want to go to the zoo again?"

"Yes. I always like the monkeys. Daddy likes the giraffe the best. They're taller than him."

"What about your mom?"

"Penguins. Mama said they looked like they were going to a wedding," he giggles.

She kisses the top of his head. "Well, you're going to see all of that tomorrow."

"Are we gonna give them carrots again?"

"I'm sure we can. We could even have some of that coconut ice-cream you liked so much when you were there. Now, when I read, I won't be able to do it as well as your father."

Covering his mouth with his small hand, he giggles. "That's okay. We can tell Daddy that you did your best."

* * *

><p>"Kid."<p>

The greeting is accompanied by a tap on his leg. The couple pulls away from each other, turning to the voice.

"Are you two alright?"

The bald man is in the standard pilot's shirt, his palms splayed on the rocking floating door they're on. Nathan turns to Haley, his hands cradling her face, his eyes scanning her for any signs of trauma.

"Are you okay?"

Haley nods, her fingers wrapped around his wrists. Her voice is itchy and painful from coughing up a bucketful of lake water. "Yes."

"Are you sure?" he asks again, not willing to believe that her near-death has left her fine.

Her thumbs move along his wrists in a soothing motion. "I'm sure."

Reluctantly, he looks away from her to the pilot, tucking away into the far corners of his mind that paralyzing fear over seeing her in the water, stock-still and pale. "We're fine."

The pilot nods, looking to the direction past them. "We have two elderly ladies who are hurt and this is the only sturdy piece that can fit both of them."

Haley is instantly alarmed. "Patty and Molly?"

The sisters were seated across the aisle, quite entertaining with stories of their lives, eager to listen to Nathan and Haley's own story. Haley engaged with them most of all since she had the aisle seat, fascinated by the women's matching lime green and hot pink tracksuits, and their loud, shimmering makeup.

"One of them has a broken ankle and the other a broken arm, I'm afraid," the pilot answers sombrely.

He must be blaming himself for this whole situation, furious for not managing a smoother landing in the water.

"Do you need help?" Nathan asks concernedly about the two women with broken bones. It's definitely not good for any of them to be hurt when they're nowhere near a hospital.

The pilot blinks, his expression changing to unreadable. "There are a couple of guys there and we all need to get to shore immediately."

He gestures with a thumb over his left shoulder. "I don't think it's too far to shore. There are already people ahead and we have to get out of the water as soon as possible before this fog worsens."

Nathan and Haley look up and sure enough, the sky overhead is turning hazy. Immediately, they both slide off the door and into the water.

The pilot nods, and with a grip on the door's railings, he pushes the door forward with every tread as he swims away.

"Go," Haley says to her husband, knowing that he wants to help out. He's strong, and they may require an extra hand.

"Are you sure? Will you be okay?"

He really does want to help those ladies or anyone else who might need it. From the snippets of their conversation with Haley, they were quite amusing storytellers.

"I'll be fine. I'll meet you at the shore," she tells him with a kiss, lips cold against each other's.

"No more drowning," he teases, although there's an underlying fear in his tone.

She smiles, kissing him again. "I promise. Now go."

He glances over his shoulder as he swims away, a look passing between them of unspoken worry.

Clearing her throat against the roughness, Haley starts to swim, focusing straight ahead and hoping she won't lose direction. It's quite unbelievable that she drowned when she is, was, such a strong swimmer in her younger years. If her belt hadn't caught on that heavy piece of metal as she tried to get to the surface, she would be more than fine. If that heavy piece of metal hadn't gotten loose and dragged her down along with it, she'd be lying at the bottom of the lake and Nathan would be…

She blinks against the stinging in her eyes, pushing away the thoughts of what if. She's alive. Thanks to Nathan. He not only saves her from herself, but also from dying.

Pausing mid-stroke, she turns back to look at the spot she last saw him, seeing nothing but still water.

"Hey."

Haley is so startled that she forgets to tread and her face sinks into the water, her scream popping out like bubbles.

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!" the husky female voice apologizes profusely as Haley sputters. "I'm sorry!"

Running a hand over her wet face, Haley squints against the dusk to focus on the woman. Holy shit, if she had drowned again, Nathan would have found a way to resurrect her and give her a tongue lashing!

"I'm really sorry. You okay?"

The voice belongs to a brunette with a wet, pink bandana knotted around her neck. Haley recognizes her from when they were walking to the gate.

"I thought you'd seen me waving as you got closer."

Haley shakes her head, wiping a palm over her face again. "I didn't."

"I saw you and your boyfriend. He was doing that CPR thing for, like, a minute. That was some crazy shit. Are you okay?"

Haley only nods, as though she's still wrapping her head around it all. She has a headache, and her throat and chest hurt like hell. She's not likely to forget another near-death experience.

The brunette grins widely. "I'm Rebecca, by the way. Rebecca Rose Riley. My mother was adamant about alliteration."

"Haley, um, Haley Scott."

"Wanna swim together, Haley? I'm a little behind everyone else. I don't think it's too far to shore but I'm just not a very good swimmer."

Haley chuckles hoarsely as she resumes her swim, the sound shaking a little. "This is not the best place to show anyone's swimming prowess."

Rebecca laughs, the sound huskier than her speaking voice. It's nonetheless genuine, like someone who laughs at everything and means it. "Pretty shitty way to end a plane ride, though."

Haley can't help but snicker at Rebecca's tone, and also at the outlandish situation they're in. They crashed into a damn lake. It was a TV script come to life.

And then fear follows suit, a stinky, icy hand holding on to her heart; a great fear of the unknown of where this is leading and where – who – it's taken them away from.

* * *

><p>"Honey, you need to watch this."<p>

Something in her husband's voice makes Deb look up from the magazine. "What is it?"

Instead of answering, Allan points the remote control to the television, the news anchor's voice increasing in volume.

"Allan, Jamie is—"

"Listen."

She turns away from him, focusing on the large screen. At first, she's confused as to what is going on, until she sees the words flashing in red and white at the bottom of the screen.

"NEWS JUST IN: LOCAL PLANE BOUND FOR MONTANA MISSING."

She gasps, her fingers clutching Allan's arm.

_"—with sources saying that the airport authorities lost contact with the plane at six o'clock following a distressing call from the pilot. The Embraer was headed to Montana, carrying forty-three passengers and four crew members. With no exact location of the plane's whereabouts before they lost contact, rescue teams are set to be dispatched throughout the state. A large effort of search and rescue will be focused in the mountains, due to the sudden fog that may or may not have contributed to the plane's disappearance. No names of on-board passengers have been released by—"_

The screen goes black. Deb then notices the remote control in her shaking hand, her fingers gripping it so tightly that they're turning pale. She lets it drop to the carpeted floor, the same hand reaching to hold still her quivering lips. Her son and daughter-in-law are missing?

"Oh, God…"

The voice seems far away and foreign, yet close and familiar.

"Allan, not again…"

He wraps his arms around her, her head leaning on his chest. He doesn't know what to say; all he's thinking is that those two are just kids who have gone through way too much.

The trilling landline takes them out of their trance. Allan pecks her cheek before getting off the couch to pick it up. "Hello?. . . .Karen, hi."

Deb looks up, getting up slowly to stand beside him.

"We just did. . . .yes, she's here. . . .we'll have to call the airport. . . .okay. . . .thank you."

He hangs up and turns to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "They just heard. They're on their way."

She nods, suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. The tears come, accompanied by memories of her son and his wife and all the other times they've been in such a heartbreaking situation, last year being the most recent.

"Grandma?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Is it Daddy? Is he calling for me?"

He's wide awake and excited as he walks quickly down the stairs, barefoot, holding onto his blue stuffed dog Ralph by one floppy ear. "What did he say? Is he having fun?"

Deb and Allan share a rather painful look, unsure of how to break the news to him.

"Why are you up, honey?" Deb asks feebly, feeling the life drain out of her as her grandson looks up at her with those eyes so like his father's.

Jamie tucks the dog under his arm, rubbing at his eyes. "Can I have chocolate milk?"

"Wait for me in the kitchen, okay? I'll be right there."

When he's out of earshot, she turns to Allan, panic written all over her face. "What do I say to him about this? Should I even tell him?"

"We have to tell him, Deb. We'll do it together."

She nods, wringing her hands. He squeezes her shoulder, leaving his arm around her as they start for the kitchen. They find him swinging his legs, his chin resting on the table while mumbling to the dog.

"Grandma, can I have some chips? I feel hungry."

Allan takes the chair opposite him while Deb busies herself fixing him hot chocolate and a sandwich. All the while, she keeps throwing glances at him, wondering how to bring up the topic. It was only last year that they were visiting her son in hospital while he was in a coma. A few years before that, her daughter-in-law had been proclaimed dead in a train accident. Can't these kids catch a break?

Watching Jamie from the corner of her eye as he chats with Allan, she's afraid of how this will shake him. Visiting his father in hospital had taken a toll on him and his mother, particularly on her when Jamie had been admitted with appendicitis while Nathan was still in a coma. Wasn't it enough that they'd suffered so much?

"Grandma, did you hear? There's a carnival coming again."

She plasters a smile on her face as she carries the food to him. "There is?"

"Grandpa just told me. Can we go?"

Last year when Jamie visited Tree Hill, they took him to the carnival. He loved every minute of it.

"Sure. And this time, you can go with your mom and dad."

Allan throws her a glance as she takes the seat beside him, her hand reaching for his knee underneath the table.

"You want some coffee?" she asks him, in a try to avoid what ought to be done.

"Later. Do you…?" He doesn't need to complete the sentence.

"What's wrong?" Jamie asks suddenly.

Deb turns to him, her heart hammering. "What?"

"You don't look so good, Grandma. Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?"

He looks so sweet and innocent that she wants to burst into tears. She blinks rapidly, her hand on Allan's knee tightening. "No, honey, you've not done anything wrong."

Jamie puts down the half-eaten sandwich. "What is it? You look sad."

When Jamie was born, Nathan called her that night, and in the tenderest tone she'd ever heard him use, called his son the most perfect thing he'd ever laid his eyes on next to Haley. Her grandson is indeed the most perfect thing of Nathan and Haley, and right now, she's trying not to wipe at her damp eyes as she looks into his clear blues.

"I'm a big boy, Grandma. You can tell me stuff."

There's a certain maturity that surrounds him when he's being serious that it can be hard to forget that he's not even in grade school.

Deb clears her throat, wondering whether placing him on her knee will soften the blow. "Something happened, Jamie."

"What is it?"

He's scared. Like when he thinks there's a monster hiding under his bed.

"There was an accident and…"

He remembers when his father was in an accident. His mother would take him to the hospital and they would talk to Daddy but Daddy didn't wake up. "An accident?"

Unable to continue, her chest constricted at trying to get the words out, Deb shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Allan pitches in. "We saw on TV that the plane your mom and dad were on is missing."

He doesn't understand. "Missing?"

Allan passes a hand through his greying hair. "It didn't get to where it was supposed to go and no one knows where it is."

Jamie picks up the forgotten stuffed animal from the table and holds it close to his chest. "With Mama and Daddy?"

Allan nods. "I'm really, really sorry, Jamie."

He's scared, his eyes wide with fright. "Are they lost?"

"I think so."

"Are they gonna come back?"

"They will," Deb answers firmly. They have to.

A moment of silence follows.

"Can I be excused?" he asks timidly, staring at the remaining sandwich.

Deb grabs his hand gently. "Are you okay, honey?"

He nods.

"You can stay up a little if you want."

"No."

"Do you want me to tuck you in?"

It was only a few hours ago that he was laughing at her impressions of farm animals.

Instead of answering, he shakes his head. Perched at the edge of the chair, feet dangling off the floor, he stares at the pale yellow plastic cup of hot chocolate in front of him, as if waiting for something to erupt out of the liquid.

Puzzled as to how she can help him, Deb pats his hand. "Okay."

Her watery eyes follow him as he slips his small hand from under hers, slides off the chair and exits the kitchen. A cold silence settles over the room once he's gone.

"Oh my God…"

Deb draws in several deep breaths, her tongue feeling heavy and numb as she desperately keeps down the hysteria. Lips sewn shut, heart throbbing wildly, the tears start to fall down her cheeks, the pain in her heart holding her captive.

"They'll be okay. They'll come back," Allan tells her, his head resting against hers, his voice tremoring with emotion.

* * *

><p>He's been standing outside the door of his parents' room for the past few minutes, just staring at it. The brass doorknob he can normally turn easily when he's snuck into their room at odd hours of the night seems higher, and too far out of reach.<p>

With his stuffed dog in one hand, he's on his toes reaching for the knob. It doesn't make a squeak like that of the pantry.

He pads slowly into the dark room, heading straight for the bed. The green and white comforter is spread out smoothly on the king-size bed, the two fluffy pillows with matching cases sitting at a perfect angle. He thinks about today when he was helping his mother pack. Well, she was packing and he was jumping and singing on the bed as usual. After she was done, she'd straightened the bed, taken his hand, and then they'd left for the airport.

His grandmother said that they're missing. He's struggling to understand what it means. Does lost mean that they can't remember how to get home? If they're lost, who will take care of him?

He loves his grandmother but she doesn't sing for him like his mama does. And his grandpa Allan doesn't give him a piggyback ride exactly like his daddy does. He likes pressing his ear to his father's back and hearing the way his voice rumbles when he speaks. Sometimes it makes him sleepy.

Jamie mounts the bed slowly, sinking into the softness of the mattress and the coolness of the pillows before pulling the comforter over his legs. His mother's pillow smells like her, vanilla with a hint of her perfume. His father's, too, like a refreshing splash of cool water on a hot day.

His lips are trembling, his eyes misty with tears as their scents surround him. He closes his eyes tightly and bites down on his lip before he can cry. Clutching Ralph closer, he burrows his small body deeper under the covers, blinking repeatedly against the tears.

Other than his sniffles, there's nothing but silence in the room, so different from the chaos that's usually there when he's in the room with his parents. Sometimes he just sits on the bed and watches his mother sing and play her guitar. Sometimes he'll fall asleep and his father will carry him to his room. And when he wakes up scared, afraid of the monsters under the bed or in the closet, his father will make sure that they're not there. Or when he's too afraid, Mama lets him sleep with them. They take care of him.

Sniffling back his tears again, he promises that it will be his job to take care of them when they come back.

* * *

><p>They all look like hell. Many of those on shore are women. A few older men are also in the crowd, their arms around what one would assume are their wives.<p>

After the flight crew had gathered everyone for a head count, only eight are said to be still out at the lake.

Her teeth chattering, Haley peers into the impending darkness and slight drizzle for signs of movement from the lake. The fog is thickening, its smoky feature kissing the waters of the lake as it settles and covers up the earth. Any longer than half an hour and if the rest of the passengers, including Nathan, are not out of the water, it could be disastrous.

"I should have listened to my mother and postponed this trip," Rebecca quakes from beside her. "Oh, no. Not me. I had to leave just to show her that I could even when I really didn't have to be there today. This is punishment for all those bitchy remarks I've thrown at her and all those phone calls I've dodged from her."

Rebecca reminds Haley of Brooke; her physique, her talkative nature, her dark hair, her hazel eyes.

"I don't think refusing to take your mother's calls is the reason, Rebecca," she answers, turning to the brunette.

_Perhaps my husband and I refusing to die when we should could be the reason why we're all here_, she could add. She winces inwardly at the thought. Life has a sadistic sense of humour.

"I hope so. I am not prepared to handle the responsibility of anyone's outcome."

It feels unkind to laugh but in the short while they've been talking, Rebecca Rose Riley just has a way of making things lighter. Haley's chest and ribs hurt, a pressure like there's someone squeezing from the inside. It must be the effects of the CPR.

"They're here!" Julie, the head flight attendant, calls out.

Haley rubs her arms up and down, looking out anxiously for Nathan. They all watch in silence until finally, the group is on the embankment, dragging the broken door with the wounded ladies on board. Both Patty and Molly are ashen, their faces washed off of most of the bright makeup they had earlier on. Beside them are two large duffle bags.

Nathan is behind the door, holding up an older man who looks weak and winded. He spots her after scanning through the crowd, throwing her a smile as he assists the man out of the water.

Moving away from Rebecca, Haley stops at the broken door, placing a hand on Patty's shoulder. "Hi, Patty."

The old woman opens her eyes slowly, a feeble smile creasing her thin lips at the young girl. "Haley, my dear. How are you? Are you alright?"

Haley leans down to hug her. Asking about someone else yet she's the one on an improvised stretcher. "I'm okay. Oh, Patty…"

Patty is cradling her bony arm close to her chest, her fingers puffed up and swollen. She chuckles thinly. "It feels worse than it looks."

"We'll take good care of you until we're out of here, okay?" Haley says, biting down on her shaking lip. There's a huge chance that the knob in her throat will give her away and she'll be crying like a baby.

Patty laughs faintly. "You're a sweetheart. And your husband was such a trooper. Go give him a kiss, okay?"

Haley chokes on a laugh, something akin to a giggle and a sob, replying softly, "I will. I'll be back to see you."

She gives both ladies kisses on the cheek before standing to find Nathan. He's sitting a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the lake. Plopping down beside him, she throws her arms around him, kissing his jaw and cheek a few times before going for his mouth.

"Are you okay?" she asks, their lips inches apart.

Her fingers stroke the base of his neck soothingly. His eyes close as he begins to rub her lower back in circles.

"I think we should expound on our vocabulary instead of asking that every time," he answers lightheartedly, his body ticking from the cold and fatigue.

She chuckles, burying her face in his chest, feeling her love for him overwhelm her like every time it does when he's with her or not, magnified when he's holding her.

"Patty said thank you."

He sighs, kissing the top of her head, grateful for the millionth time that she didn't die. "I thought so from the kiss she gave me."

There comes again that choking laugh from her lips. Her chest really hurts. He says her name around a soft sigh, and she moans like in pain, shaking her head against his chest.

"Hales, it's okay to be scared."

He knows she's scared out of her mind. _He_ is scared out of his mind. Being in such a situation is bound to make anyone scared.

"I'm more scared for him, Nathan," she says hoarsely.

* * *

><p>There's only one other place he would be other than his bed. Allan takes the two strides directly across the hallway, tapping lightly on the closed door. After another knock that doesn't receive a reply, he pushes the door open slowly. The only light in the room is coming from the hallway bulb.<p>

Jamie's back is to the door, and Allan is unable to tell whether he's asleep or not. The small human form looks almost minute in the middle of the large size of the bed. It's such a wretched sight that Allan swallows to calm himself down. He turns on a bedside lamp.

"Jamie," he calls out softly, pressing the mouthpiece of the phone against his shoulder.

The boy turns slowly, his face not showing any signs of sleep.

"Jamie?"

He doesn't answer but his eyes look away sadly.

"Your grandpa Dan is on the phone," Allan holds out the phone.

Jamie looks up, his features fairly softened up. "Grandpa Dan?" he asks quietly.

Allan nods, smiles. "You want to talk to him?"

"Okay," he says, sitting up on the bed and reaching for the phone. "Grandpa?"

While they talk, Allan walks around the bed to the windows, ensuring that they are shut tightly. It may be that they live in a safe neighbourhood, but he's never been one to take chances. Perhaps it has something to do with his own childhood nightmare when his cousin Charlie burst into his room through his window late one night, just for laughs. Charlie the family prankster, a wild, rowdy man who now wears an eye patch after a paintball accident, lives in Florida with his fourth wife, and breeds alligators and sells gator merchandise. They've not spoken in months, but Charlie is quite consistent in forwarding crude emails that are not all that funny to anyone but him.

"Okay. . . .I promise. . . .Bye."

Allan turns to the child, giving him a comforting smile. "You miss him?"

Jamie nods. "He said he's gonna come see me."

"That's good. I bet he's missed you, too."

"He said so."

They're both quiet, Allan busying himself smoothening out the already smooth bedspread.

"Are they gonna come home?"

Allan looks up, his gut twisting at the fear that's filled Jamie's face. "They are," he replies with conviction.

Jamie's head dips into what looks like a nod. "Okay."

Allan pats the boy's small leg lightly. "Your mom will be home in time to give you your birthday kisses. You'll see."

"Okay," he agrees quietly, fingers playing with Ralph's ear.

"Uncle Andy and Aunt Karen are here. You want to see them?"

"And Uncle Lucas?" Jamie asks hopefully.

Allan nods. "And Lucy and Aunt Peyton."

"Can…can he come up here?" His voice is unsteady and his eyes are gleaming with tears.

"Sure," Allan responds, against the stiff mass stuck in his throat. There's nothing as heartbreaking as seeing a child's pain, especially a child he loves so dearly.

"Grandpa?"

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Allan turns back. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Allan gives him a wan smile, marvelled as always at how well-mannered he is. "You're welcome."

He remembers a time when Haley told him that no child of hers would lack an appreciative disposition. He also remembers himself thinking that they had the greatest kid in the world.


	6. Chapter 6

After everyone is accounted for, the pilots and flight attendants give out instructions; they need to find somewhere to sleep and they need fire.

Half the passengers are left securing a place where they can rest, the other half are out foraging for as much dry firewood and building materials as they can. It's like an episode off a reality show about testing survival skills, except that no one knows where they are and there are no rewards for a job well done.

They're able to pile branches between two large trees not far from the shore, creating a cave beneath that they can use for shelter. The fog has completely descended, leaving an eerie look to the lake and its surroundings.

They crowd around the fire to keep warm, which is hard when they're cold and wet, and there's a slight drizzle. The night is a mixture of navy and grey, from a barely visible sky and a thick fog. The smoke mingles with the fog as it rises, a mass of grey that hangs over their heads. It is completely depressing and disheartening.

The last passengers were able to swim under to the sunken plane and retrieve some supplies; several large bottles of water, blankets that they have to share two by two and needed to be held close to the fire to dry for a while before use, and stale peanuts that they each had a handful of. Accompanied by a few sips of water, they had to settle for that as dinner. Come tomorrow, they have high hopes that the fog will have lifted for them to figure out a way to get out of here.

There's not much talking going around. Everyone seems to be stunned into silence, bits of conversation making their way around when the idea of being stuck here for a while shakes them out of their dark thinking. This is definitely no ordinary campfire.

No ghost stories are being told to scare them out of sleeping, no marshmallows are hanging out of long twigs being held over the roaring, blazing fire, no barbecue ribs or salmon slices are ready for grilling or frying, neither is there coffee to sip nor beers to pass around. Some passengers stare into the fire preoccupied with their thoughts, ignoring those with whom they're huddled under the blanket with. Some murmur and whisper to each other, sharing words of comfort, love and hope. It's easy to tell who the friends are, who the strangers are, who the partners are. But even with their differences in relation, they share that haggard look; a blend of emotions ironed out on all their faces of fear, exhaustion and disbelief.

* * *

><p>"Hey, sport."<p>

He sits up, watching as his uncle comes up to the bed. "Hi, Uncle Lucas. Did you hear?"

"I did. I'm sorry, buddy."

Jamie nods, letting his uncle hug him.

"Guess who's here with me?"

"Aunt Peyton?"

"Hi, Jimmy-Jam."

She moves from the doorway, bending down to kiss his cheek, her hand cupping the back of his head. The sillage of her flowery perfume lingers as her hand moves to his shoulder. "I've missed you."

"Me, too. I forgot to draw you a picture."

She smiles at him kindly, rubbing his hair gently. "It's okay. I can wait. How are you feeling?"

He shrugs, leaning back on the pillows. "I want to sleep but I don't wanna be sleeping when Daddy calls."

Peyton and Lucas look at each other, uncertain whether he understands the full extent of the situation.

"It's alright if you want to sleep," Peyton says as she sits on the bed, patting his knee over the covers.

He shrugs again, pulling at Ralph's worn faded-blue ear. "I guess so. Will you wake me up when he calls?"

Lucas nods, squeezing Jamie's tiny shoulder. "Of course. We'll be downstairs if you need us, okay?"

"No. Don't leave yet," Jamie pleads, grabbing Lucas' hand as he stands, his eyes larger than they were a second ago.

Lucas sits back down, his stomach lurching with sorrow. He puts an arm around his nephew's small shoulders and pulls him closer. "Okay. I won't leave."

* * *

><p>They are awoken by a shrill scream.<p>

Everyone jumps up, dazed and looking around sleepily. It was a long time before they found sleep in the cold, foggy night in a harsh environment.

Molly is pointing to something not far from where she and her sister are resting.

"Molly, what is it?" Julie, closest to the ladies, asks in that steady, professional manner. It would be tragic if anything else happened to the women. Or to any of them. The minor cuts and bruises are worrying enough.

"Raccoon," the plump-cheeked woman answers, pointing with a shaky finger at the small animal sniffing her leg. Those close to the ladies jump and move away, and the bald pilot, shaking his head, shoos the creature away.

The summer morning doesn't bring sunshine with it, but the fog seems less dense than last night, and the air is cooler rather than cold. They all slept around the now-dead fire, concerned about black bears and mountain mammals, slapping away mosquitoes that left numerous bumps and bites on the exposed flesh of their arms, legs and faces.

They pile another heap of wood for a fire, the warmth melting their frozen, stiff bones as the morning fully rises. It's water and peanuts again for breakfast, and then a scavenger hunt for twigs that they use as toothbrushes; it's impossible not to be reflective with the thought of the items in their everyday lives that they take for granted, which are lying at the bottom of the lake.

"Some honeymoon."

Nathan looks up at his wife as she stands over him at the sandy edge of the lake. She has a hand over her side, and it concerns him that she's bruised in the same spot as a year ago. "Impressive."

Holding out his hand, he helps her to the ground. A faint whistle from her sends attentiveness cutting into him; she has gotten hurt way too many times in the last year to his liking.

She rests her hand on his knee, her wedding ring visible and luminous. It's not the same one she had when they first got married when they were nearly seventeen. It's not the same one she was without following the train wreck in New Jersey. It's not the same one he held onto in memory of her, only to be told that she wasn't dead after all.

"As weird as it is to say this bearing in mind where we are, I like the fresh air out here," she says, sniffing it in.

"Yeah," he concurs fairly absentmindedly.

"What are you thinking about?" Haley whispers, her hand running along his thigh.

He puts an arm around her, his eyes still staring out over the still lake. "I was just wondering where we're supposed to go without disaster following us around."

Turning to him, she tucks her hair behind her ears. "Alaska?"

"Can we drive there?"

They grin at each other. They both watch the water in silence, then she adds, "Sometimes I think that our lives are an elaborate cosmic joke."

The pain is evident on her face and voice, pain from the memories of the tragedies that have befallen them.

He kisses her forehead, her temple and her cheek. "I know what you mean."

Her eyes blur as she thinks about their son. All of four years old, left without his father or mother.

She misses his smile, his laugh, his hugs, the way he holds her hand in his small one when they're walking down the street like she's the one who needs to be kept away from harm. She misses every little thing about him, even when he's jumping on their bed at five o'clock in the morning asking for pancakes. He's probably wondering why they didn't call him. By now he must know that they can't call him.

Haley doesn't realize she's crying until she feels the cool fingers on her cheek. Lifting her head to look at him, her lips are quivering, her eyes soaked with tears, their path down her cheeks warm against the coldness. There's an aching strong in his heart as she breaks into a sob. He wishes he could take the pain away.

"Hales…"

She shakes her head slightly, taking in a deep shaky breath in an attempt to stop the tears. She can't, the mental picture of her only child being left an orphan if something horrible happens to them flashing through her mind.

"Is he—"

He wastes no time pulling her closer. His voice sounds strangled with, "We'll get back to him."

Shaking harder, she wraps her arms around him tightly as he lets her cry, rocking her and pressing soft kisses on her forehead, his lips lingering on her cool skin. Spent, she raises her tight, hurting head and takes a breath.

"Shit, my ribs hurt," she exhales, exhausted by the crying jag.

He goes for a stiff smile, sliding his hand along her side to rest his palm over where she hurts. "Price to pay for coming back from the dead."

"I feel like we have nine lives or something." Though she's also smiling, sorrow and fear coupled together creep out of her voice.

An intensity charges through her eyes. "Thank you for saving me."

She looks at him with that adulation that always humbles him. Slowly, she leans her lips towards his and gently presses them together. "I love you."

The sweet kiss from him to her gives her that rush she always gets, makes her stomach flip-flop. "And I love you."

* * *

><p>Friends from around town have come out of the woodwork to visit. They heard. For most of the day, they parade in and out of Deb Alin's home with flowers and food. It feels like a wake.<p>

The fridge is packed with Tupperware containers bearing casseroles, lasagna, Jell-O salads, brownies and desserts. One would think there has been a death in the family. The friends mean well, but they're making an already dire situation worse by making it seem completely hopeless.

When they come, they don't stay for long. They speak to Deb or Allan, or to both, in hushed tones and with sombre looks on their faces. They say hello to the little boy with dark-blonde hair who sits quietly in the living room playing his video games.

Pity floods their faces when he looks up at them, his innocence making them shy, uncomfortable even, of what to say to him. To them, he's not old enough to be taken aside and asked how he's coping; they choose to ask his grandparents instead. They, in turn, respond that he's fine, that he's a strong little boy. They don't tell them that his demeanour has changed since they broke the news to him. They don't tell them that he slept in his parent's bed last night and most of the morning. They don't tell them that he's not left the house to get the paper that he's always deliriously bouncing out the house for, even though it's right at the stoop.

The people from town say their goodbyes; they hug Deb or pat her hand, slap Allan's shoulder, and nod and smile at Jamie. They offer to organize play dates with their own kids for him, and the grandparents are grateful but noncommittal.

"Mommy's on TV!" he yells excitedly out of the blue.

The house has emptied out after close-knit family and friends have left, promising to be back later in the evening. Deb dashes out from the study, walking fast towards the living room and the excited tone of Jamie's voice.

A younger, blonde-haired Haley is seated on the couch, the very same couch that Jamie is on, talking vivaciously on screen. _"—completely terrifying and I'm really glad to be home._"

Deb remembers the day the local news crew came to the house to interview Haley after she got home, almost three months after they had all believed that she had died in some freak train accident. "Did you put in a video, honey?"

_"—to be with my husband, my son and my friends again. Something like that changes you."_

He shakes his head, looking up at her, a brilliant smile on his face; that smile that has been absent for a while. He turns back to the screen. "It's on TV. Isn't she pretty?"

She rubs his hair tenderly. "She is."

"And there's Daddy!"

Jamie drops his feet to the floor, padding towards the gigantic screen. "Is that me, Grandma?"

Nathan is now shown seated beside Haley, holding a baby Jamie between them.

"It is."

"Wow," he says, face pressed to the screen. "I'm itty-bitty."

"Itty-bitty?" she laughs, straightening the black-and-white checkered blanket resting on the armrest of the couch.

"Mama says I was itty-bitty when I was little."

"What's going on?" Allan asks as he walks into the living room, carrying a bottle of water.

"Jamie's on TV," Deb answers.

"Mama and Daddy, too!" he squeals, pointing them out on the screen.

The scene changes to the most recent one of Nathan's press conference of his NBA draft. He'd had offers from different teams, and he hadn't made up his mind. The first scout was to Montana, and he took Haley along.

"Jamie, you're too close. Come back here," Deb tells him.

"But I wanna see," he protests.

"You can also see from the couch. We can't have you getting glasses at such an early age."

"I want glasses," he beams, walking back to the couch.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you already have perfect vision."

He sits back on his legs on the couch. "What's perfect vision?"

The screen changes yet again, with pictures of newspaper clippings from Nathan's accident a year ago. The image of the accident scene flashes next, the torn-apart bus in the middle of the road at night. A wave of horror roils through her.

"It's, uh, it's when you see things perfectly without eyeglasses."

"Is that Dan at the front door?" Allan quips, staring at the widescreen plasma.

"What?"

It is. There's a camera in his face as he lifts his finger to the doorbell. A moment later, a shrill tone echoes throughout the house. Deb rushes to the front door, not because she's eager to see her ex-husband but because that camera crew is way too close to the house. They are practically trespassing!

"Hi, Deb."

It amazes her how Dan Scott never seems to age. Granted, it's only been a few months since they last saw each other, over the big Christmas dinner, but he still looks the same. Dark hair with few traces of grey, no wrinkles to show aging, fit as a fiddle. It's easy to dislike him just for that.

"Dan. How are you?"

"I'm well," he says, his eyes looking past her shoulder. "How are you?"

Their relationship is cordial, a welcome relief from the constantly erupting volcano it was when they were married, their arguments endless over the most trivial things. She steps back to usher him in, but before she closes the door, a figure in violet breezes past, throwing her a little off balance.

"Lord of mercy!" the strong southern accent says, "This is complete madness!"

The tornado bangs the door, leaning her back against it and dropping two duffle bags at her feet. The brunette's vivid green eyes connect with Deb's pale blue ones. "Can't they see that there's a child here whose parents are missin'?"

"They're too close to the house, aren't they?" Deb asks, hugging the other dainty woman. "Hi, Mary Jo."

"Hi, Deb."

The ex-wife and the girlfriend who are genuine friends.

Mary Jo would best be described as 'cute as a button', a very likeable button. She's five-foot-three, with thick black hair that frames a freckled, pale face, and so delicate-looking that she would be mistaken for a pushover or a college student rather than a woman of thirty-six. Deb learned different after she witnessed Mary Jo fighting with a bull of a man over the last toaster at Black Friday. She expected Mary Jo to grow claws and fangs as she clung onto that white box, _barking_ ferociously at the burly man until he gave up.

"Is he in there?" Mary Jo asks, grabbing her bags and pointing to the living room with a jerk of her head.

"Yes."

"How's he doing?" Dan asks in a low voice as Mary Jo walks past them. He's standing at the edge of the foyer nervously, as if fearing seeing his grandson.

"He hasn't brought it up today but there have been so many people coming by today that I haven't asked…"

She falls silent, sighs, rubs her temple. "Lucas stayed with him last night until he fell asleep."

"Lucas?" Dan asks quizzically.

She gives him a pointed look, moving away from him. "He's his uncle and godfather, Dan, _and_ your son. You need to get over it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," she says sarcastically. It's frustrating that after all this time, Dan walks on eggshells around his firstborn son.

"Grandpa Dan?" Jamie calls out from the living room.

"I believe that someone's waiting to see you," Deb tells him as she branches off towards the study.


	7. Chapter 7

"Haley."

They are seated on a log in a small clearing that's surrounded by forest. She twists around to see Rebecca moving towards them, bandana tied around her wrist. "Hey, Rebecca. What's up?"

"Patty's asking for you," the brunette says, stopping a few feet from where they are.

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah. She just wants to see you."

"Okay," Haley nods. "Have you met my husband Nathan?"

Rebecca grins, stretching out her hand at him. "Not officially."

Nathan stands to return the pleasant handshake. "Weird situation to say nice to meet you."

"You got that right," Rebecca laughs in that full way she does, then looks over her shoulder.

_"Becca!"_

Rebecca's laughter is cut off, and she turns to them uneasily. "I, uh, I actually have to get going before she finds me."

"Who, Patty?" Haley asks in confusion.

_"Becca, where are you?"_

"No. Oh, shit."

"What?" the couple asks simultaneously.

Rebecca shakes her head before scurrying off towards the woods at the edge of the lake that lead into the forest. "See ya."

They're left puzzled at her hasty departure, and at whose voice is carrying like that.

"She reminds me a little bit of Brooke," Nathan remarks as she disappears into the fog.

"I thought so, too. I wonder who she's running from."

When they look towards their temporary settlement, they don't see anyone. It's hard to tell with the fog, anyway.

"She'd be perfect for Miller, don't you think?"

He sighs with excess, sitting back down. "Not this again, Haley. Stop setting up the poor guy. Your friends, or should I say acquaintances, are not his type."

She punches his arm lightly. "No one thought I was your type, either, but here we are. Rebecca will not take his bullshit and that's the kind of girl who's perfect for him."

"Ability to bullshit a bullshitter isn't the only thing to keep a relationship together."

"It's a good thing, though, considering that you thought every girl I suggested was too diffident."

"Too what?"

"Timid. That was the word you used to describe my acquaintances, I believe."

He rolls his eyes. "Couldn't you have just said that in the first place? Miller would have eaten them alive, no pun."

"Nasty."

"Hales, I know you mean well, but not everyone wants to settle down in college or high school. We lucked out, so did Luke and Sawyer, but Miller? Miller is definitely not the guy who'll settle down until he's at least fifty or seventy."

She waves a hand away, harrumphing. She just wants her friends to have the kind of love she has. Miller has a wonderful heart to go along with that biker-dude-slash-gym-buff exterior, and it would be nice to see him with one steady girl. It was tiring remembering the names of the different girls who cozied up to her closest friend in the band every weekend.

"To everything turn, turn, turn, Nathan, and you know it. I'm going to see Patty now."

He smacks her butt as she stands. "No Miller plus Rebecca business, alright? I should find more firewood before it gets too dark."

Haley sniggers softly, dusting dirt off her jeans.

"That's not something I say every day, is it?" he says with an added chuckle, getting up.

"Never ever," she laughs.

"I'm crossing something off my bucket list."

They laugh a little more, a little harder, feeling goofy with their deep amusement, forgetting about their current bad luck. Haley feels breathless; it seems like ages since either of them had a good laugh.

On a sigh, she seems to sober up, asking in a panic, "What do you think he's doing now? Is he okay?"

He must know by now that they're missing, and its tormenting that he may be thinking that they're dead.

"Being a little man," Nathan answers with a tinge of admiration in his voice.

He thinks of his son and his uncanny habit of being a grownup when he doesn't need to be. Like last year after the accident. Waking up from his coma, Nathan can swear that there was something different about Jamie that hadn't been there the last time they'd seen each other.

"He has seen too much. He experiences too much. We have to get back to him, Nathan, before he's convinced that we're never returning," she says solemnly.

Nathan nods and kisses her brow. With all the shit Jamie has had to see, it's the kind of stuff that can cause irreparable trauma on a kid.

"We'll get back."

"We have to. We have to get back to him," she whispers adamantly, desperately. "We all have to get back to our families and friends. We have to get Patty and Molly help. God, this is such a nightmare."

The flight crew has been conferencing together, but they haven't told anyone what they plan to do. At this point, she wants to take matters into her own hands, brave the forest animals and hypothermia, just to find a way back to civilisation, and finally, to Jamie.

When she arches her back, she winces, and quickly reaches for her side. "Ow."

"Let me see."

She unzips her jacket, and without taking it off, she raises the hems of her jacket and top. He takes over, peeling them higher over her back and stomach, his eyes on the bruises. The circular imprints of his palms are on her chest and the left side of her ribs. Tenderly, he sweeps his fingertips over them. She doesn't even flinch.

"What's the diagnosis, doctor?" she asks with humour.

"I don't know. You look black and blue, though."

"Not the first time," she mutters, righting her clothes.

He breathes out loudly, his hands coiling into fists instinctively at the last time she was black and blue. There were grazes on her back, blood on her stomach and lip, bruises on her face, neck and breasts, and it swept a boiling rage over him that made him want to scream.

_"Yoohoo!"_

They both turn, squinting past the pale atmosphere to look at the visitor. A much older woman is approaching them, casually dressed in tight, faded jeans, a long blouse and peep-toe ankle booties. She's petite, endowed with breasts that seem way too big and perky to be real on her slight frame, a wide smile showing pearl-white teeth, and a thick mane of bleached blonde hair that highly contrasts against her deep tan.

"Oh, shit," Haley breathes.

She dreads dealing with women like this. Back at camp, she's seen the woman's gaze tracking Nathan any time he's around. This is who Rebecca was running from.

"Hi, there. I'm Karen," she introduces herself in a singsong voice, holding out a tanned hand to Nathan.

Immediately, Haley thinks of Karen, Luke's mom. This is her antithesis, and if the two women were put in a room together, it would be two alter egos meeting for the first time.

With a polite but cool smile, Nathan pumps her hand. "Nathan. This is my wife Haley."

The woman's olive green eyes, outlined by thick eyeliner that looks tattooed on, roam over Nathan openly, taking him in as if doing an assessment while crossing off a mental checklist. Haley shudders at the blatant appreciation in the woman's eyes. One lip lick or smack from her and she will be forced to growl to mark her territory. She shudders again at the mental image; that's just short of lifting up her leg and peeing on a fire hydrant like a dog. Secretly, not even close to any weird sexual behaviour on her part, she finds it flattering that women ogle and flirt with Nathan. He is quite a catch, after all.

Nathan stares back with what could be termed as wooden disinterest and boredom. Karen, with her dark roots and fake lashes, is unperturbed by his reaction, interpreting it as a daring game. She fixes her gaze on his handsome face, thrusting out her chest and plastering a saccharine smile on her taut face, convinced that he could be her newest toy until they're back to civilization.

"Mind if I call you Nate?"

"If you want to."

"Oh, I want," she breathes.

Over the years, Haley's ceased to be shocked by the blatant come-ons, but none of those girls were as old as Karen. It's disturbing.

Playing the fool in her game, Nathan kisses the corner of Haley's mouth. "Rest up, okay?"

There's no need for them to substantiate their relationship with a deep kiss; their eye contact, the fleeting peck and the sweep of his finger along her cheek makes a hard sell on how close they really are.

Deliberately, Haley turns away from Karen when Nathan is swallowed up by the forest, saying, "I have to go, too."

Karen smiles, but there's no warmth in the stiff gesture. "I just wanted to introduce myself. We can walk back together if that's alright with you."

Haley takes no pleasure in the idea of walking with the woman, but she has no choice. She learned how to be at ease with silences from Alec. "That's fine."

* * *

><p>Lucas sinks onto the couch, grabbing the other controller from the table. "How goes it over here?"<p>

His nephew shrugs. "Okay."

Catching up on the on-going game on the sleek screen, Luke casts sideway glances at him. "What have you been up to?"

Jamie shrugs again, his small shoulders lifting slightly. "Grandma made cookies."

He turns to his uncle, blue eyes on blue. "You want some?"

His eyes seem glassy, tired and just sad. Four going on forty, like the world rests on his shoulders. Poor kid.

Lucas gulps, swallowing down the sour lump chock-full of sympathy. "Yeah. Sure. Chocolate chip?"

The little boy pauses the game, dropping his bare feet to the floor. "Oatmeal."

"Way better," Lucas grins.

There's a weak smile on his nephew's face. "Cool."

Lucas follows him to the kitchen, noticing the boy's somewhat sluggish walk.

"You want something to drink?"

Four on forty-four. He sounds like his father.

"Uh, yeah." Lucas looks out the window to the backyard. "Where's your grandma?"

Deb hates it when they refer to her like that, but they all do, mostly to rile her up. The only ones she wholeheartedly welcomes the designation from are Jamie and Lucy.

"Upstairs."

He's having a bit of a struggle with the fridge door, but gripping it with both hands, he pulls it open. "You want apple juice? I don't like it very much."

Lucas is still a little mystified at the coolness oozing off his nephew. He's usually electric and bouncy, but in the time since the plane crash, he has shrunk into a shell. He barely spoke last night when they came around, sitting quietly beside Lucy and watching a movie. But what else can he expect when the kid's parents are missing, for God's sake? A foam party?

"Uncle Lucas?"

He blinks, focusing. "Sorry."

Jamie lifts the almost-full bottle with both hands. "Apple juice?"

Lucas nods, unsure of what he can do to comfort Jamie. This is his brother's son, his childhood best friend's child, his own godson, but he's at a loss at how to help him.

Reaching for the drinking glasses that are out of reach for Jamie's height, he asks, "Hey, you want to get out of the house for some time? We could go to the River Court or the park."

He's hoping his answer will be yes. Maybe it will be good for him to get out, given that he hasn't been out of the house since being told of the crash, saying his goodbyes from the couch or the front door.

"Basketball?" the boy asks, his voice soft, eyes looking wide with apprehension. He associates basketball with his father.

"Not if you don't want to," Lucas answers quickly. "We can just hang out."

Jamie looks relieved. "Okay."

He tries to pour out the juice but the counter is too high. "I can't reach it," he says, passing the bottle to Lucas. "Daddy says that I'm a short pants."

"A short pants?"

"Like Mama. But I'm gonna be taller when I grow up."

Lucas grins weakly, taking the container from the boy's small hands. "Your dad's right."

"Am I gonna be as tall as him?"

Unsure of where this is headed, Lucas answers, "Uh, I think so."

"I wanna be just like my dad," the boy says quietly, his eyes staring out the window.

It scares him a little to see the broken heartedness surrounding Jamie.

* * *

><p>"How long have you been together?"<p>

"Six years," Haley answers without missing a beat. And by the time their anniversary rolls around, they'll be home, celebrating the milestone with their family and friends, and listening to Jamie's birthday requests. They will be home. God, she hopes so.

"Don't you get sick of each other?" Rebecca grins.

At that, Haley bursts out into a laugh. Her hold on the bottle slips under the stream they're fetching water from. It leads into the lake and it's clearer than any other they came across, just a hundred yards away from the camp.

"I like him. He's great company."

Opposites that attracted unquestionably, Peyton sometimes said of them. It seemed that they avoided getting together all those years when Lucas and Nathan were in dispute; the more distance the guys put between them, the more oblivious Haley and Nathan were of each other. And when they began being in the same space, it's as if the scales fell from their eyes. Months into their relationship and they were married.

They'd had another fight over sex, porn, her feelings of pressure, his for deep sexual frustration. He had played it cool for months, and naturally, his desire for sex was tired of being neglected. She knew that he'd had no trouble sleeping with the girls he'd dated; he had dated many girls who were like him, attractive girls who were already sexually experienced and were eager to sleep with him. She was just as eager to be with him, but she was a virgin. They had such an intense physical attraction that it scared the hell out of her, and sometimes she had trouble being sure of how far she would go. Sometimes she felt she was being unfair to him. Sometimes she was purely afraid of humiliating herself the first time they slept together.

She'd come home from Peyton's to find him at her house, waiting out in the rain. And as he stood there apologizing for being a dick and for accusing her of not meeting his sexual needs, she wanted him. She couldn't deny it any longer; she needed him so much that it was killing her. They drove to his apartment, rain-soaked and high-spirited, and between long, deep kisses on his bed, before she could hook her fingers into the waistband of his shorts, he proposed.

She hesitated because she thought he was running a game on her. As he lay down how serious he was about the proposal, she realized that she didn't just want to be with him for that night, but for the rest of her life. She said yes. Then she cried.

"You must have dated for a long time before you got married."

Jarred back to the present, Haley puts the memories away. "Not really. We've been married for six years."

Shock passes across Rebecca's face. "Are you fucking with me or are you actually older than I thought?"

A fly would easily make its way down her throat. It's a look that Haley hasn't seen in a while, and laughing again, she answers, "No, I'm not."

Rebecca considers this in that awe. "I really did not see that one coming."

Haley reaches over and pats her arm good-naturedly, making light. "Most people don't, Becca."

She says her name with the same slow inflection as Karen, like two separate words with question marks: Beh? Cah?

Rebecca's smoky laugh is punctuated by a slap to Haley's forearm. Haley looks over at Nathan, where he's holding a conversation with some of the men by the lake shore.

There are lessons that stick when one of you has a near-death experience, when one of you is ripped away from the life you have together. You learn to value what you have, protect it, strengthen it.

"Good years," she adds with a smile. Trying to describe whatever happiness she felt before Nathan and Jamie would be futile. They're her people, her tribe, where she belongs.

They exchange a smile, Rebecca asking, "You have kids?"

A cloudy look overcomes Haley's features, and she says in a soft voice, "A son."

Speechless, Rebecca just nods. Haley gives her new friend a shaky smile before turning away. There's not much to see in the distance due to the smoky screen. She can make out the shapes of tall giant trees but nothing is clear. It's not hard to imagine how a short-sighted person sees the world without their glasses.

She thinks about that little boy who means the world, and more, to her. His love for peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches, the sunshine scent of his skin after spending a day out in the sun, his sweet smile and giggles when he's tickled, the angelic look on his face when he's asleep, his defiance, stubbornness and cheekiness…

An aching stab of longing pierces through her heart, blocking her clogged airway. She breathes out heavily, hating the thought of her son falling apart from this.

"Are you okay?" Rebecca asks worriedly, placing a hand on Haley's arm.

Haley turns her face away from the skies to her friend, blinking slowly against the familiar throbbing behind her eyes. She blows out her cheeks on that broken breath, gathering herself. "Yes. Thank you."

They resume filling the water bottles in silence, the hushed, smooth flow of the stream the only sound between them.

"I miss him," Haley divulges softly.

Rebecca nods understandingly. She may not have kids but she can't imagine how incredibly difficult it is for any mother in this situation to be away from her child. She wonders whether her own mother misses her. There would be no surprise if she's at the country club this minute, being the proper lady, and sipping on an Australian Chardonnay while waiting for her massage session, not overtly worried about her twenty-three-year-old daughter surviving a plane crash.

* * *

><p>Jamie listens as his uncle talks where they sit across from each other at the kitchen table. When Uncle Lucas says that there's a new car at the garage, Jamie remembers being there with his father, visiting his uncle before they went away on a plane.<p>

His father had also taken him to the beach that morning and showed him how to skip rocks. And no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't doing it as well as his daddy. His father had told him that it didn't matter that he couldn't skip the rocks, but practice would make him better at it. Did that mean that he had to practice every day like his father did with basketball?

"You okay there, sport?"

Jamie nods, loosening one hand from around the drinking glass and taking a cookie from the plate, biting into it. His grandma Deb is always asking him the same thing. Does he not look okay? His face is still the same in the mirror. Are the grownups seeing something he's not?

"Wanna go now?" his uncle asks.

He nods, slipping out of his chair. "I have to get my shoes."

"Okay. We should tell your grandma that we're leaving."

"Why?"

His mom and dad don't ask Grandma when they're leaving.

"She'll be worried if she doesn't find you when she comes downstairs."

His mother is always telling him not to play alone. Maybe it's the same thing.

As Jamie walks up the stairs, he peeks at the pictures hanging on the wall. The montage of frames mounted is hard to ignore, filled with pictures in various moments; birthdays, graduations, picnics and holidays. There's a large picture encased in a shiny silver frame that was taken at his parents' wedding, where they're both holding his hand and walking barefoot down the beach, all of them laughing. Jamie looks away, his body slumping, sadness and pain weighing down heavily on his little shoulders.

Minutes later, Deb walks into the living room, Jamie behind her. "Lucas. Jamie told me that you wanted to go out?"

"Yeah," he answers, giving her a hug. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," she pats his arm. "I can make you some sandwiches if you want."

Lucas flicks a look over at Jamie where he is on the bottom step, biting down on his lip as he straps his sandals on. "That would be great. I thought we'd go to the beach. Maybe pass by the beach house?" Lucas finishes awkwardly.

Dan Scott may be his biological father but they're not close. Barely even associates. Since last year, they've put up with each other for Nate's sake. He can tolerate Dan for the afternoon for Jamie's sake, too; Jamie simply loves Dan.

Deb gives him a reassuring smile, understanding Lucas' hesitation about being around Dan. He's a better man than her ex-husband ever was at the same age, and she wouldn't cower to say it. "I'm sure Jamie will like that. Ham and cheese okay?"

Lucas nods before she turns towards the kitchen. "You want to come with us? Peyton'll be there, too. Later, anyway."

"Are you sure you don't mind an old woman tagging along?" she throws over her shoulder with a grin.

He laughs, trailing behind into the bright kitchen. "You're not that old. Besides, Mary Jo can keep you company. I'm sure you'll have a blast discussing old people stuff together."

She laughs, too, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of cider. "I'd love to come along. Allan's down at the college for a faculty meeting and I would rather not be left here alone."

For a while, the only sound in the room is of the rummaging in the refrigerator, and then the soft thud of the fridge door as it shuts.

"Hey, Deb?"

"Yes?" she replies absentmindedly, placing a variety of lunch meats on the countertop.

"How is he?"

She shakes her head before throwing a quick glance at the kitchen doorway.

"He's quiet," she answers, turning the knife over in her hand by its handle. "He says he's fine but he doesn't talk about it."

"Just like Nathan," Lucas grins weakly.

Deb gives him an appreciative smile. "I'm really glad you came by, Lucas. He hasn't been out since…"

She falters. Her body seems to deflate, her eyes falling to her hands. "I really don't know how to help him."

"We can't," he mumbles, fingers drumming on the counter.

At her expression, he explains, "We are not what he needs. Until they come back, we can only do the best we can. But we're not them. They are what he wants, and anything less is just not enough for him."


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey, handsome."

He bites back a startled curse, tapping the stick covered in soil against a rock. He feels like a piece of meat every time he sees her looking. Fans are different; they may have sneaked into his hotel room once or twice, but once he's kicked them out, they stay out. He's never had to be stuck in the backwoods with a fan, and whatever Karen is, she's aggressive.

"Come on, play nice."

These games are getting old.

"I'm not interested," he says dully.

A playful chuckle rolls out of her. "Care to share your disinterest as we take a swim?"

He questions her sanity. They're stranded out here and she's behaving like they're in a mating game on Horny Island. Clenching his jaw, he looks towards the camp. The fog has somewhat thinned out and he's able to spot Haley chatting animatedly with Rebecca. His lips curl in a smile instantaneously.

Karen follows his line of vision, her own smile faltering at what he's looking at. "How did you end up with her?"

The question is asked in a disdainful, sneering tone. He has too much of a bad humour right now that rage swells within him. Furious at the vicious attack on his wife from a stranger, he glares coldly at her. "Excuse me?"

Karen shrugs, tossing her bleached hair over a leathery shoulder. He finds it revolting that she's at least fifteen years his senior and behaving like a bitchy schoolgirl.

"She's the last kind of girl I would pick for you."

"It's a good thing that I didn't ask you to pick, isn't it?" he growls sharply, her unattractiveness in his eyes at an all-time high.

Her eyes widen overstatedly. He wouldn't be shocked if she swam down to the wreckage to rescue her makeup kit. If she didn't, that's one hell of a raccoon look she's maintaining in this wetness.

"You can't tell me that I'm the first one to ever point it out?"

If she were a man, he wouldn't have hesitated slamming a fist into his face. He would rip that guy's throat out for undermining Haley like she's nothing but easy prey. He's always had a temper, and he knew when to put a leash on it, but the surgery must have triggered a switch where his fuse got lit up much quicker. For Jamie's sake, he had forced himself to learn how to pack it away.

Strangers are exempt from it, though. It could get out of hand and he could turn dangerous around them. These people know shit about her, about them and what they are, but they are always quick to judge on how wrong they appear together. The two of them can joke about how different they are, but no one else is allowed to hack at their relationship. For this woman to do the same when he's half-worried out of his mind about his wife and his boy, she's on thin ice.

"Lady, you don't know anything about my wife to say jack shit about her," he snarls, using his height to intimidate her.

She gives him her signature teasing smile that's had men vowing to sell their mothers for her attention. "All I need to know is that she doesn't complement you."

No matter how many ways he looks at it, he has to address this shade of crazy in a different way. "You're way out of line, and you better watch yourself before you get hurt."

Karen grins, flashing that absurdly white smile, as if completely unaware of his coldness. "I like this look on you, hot stuff."

"Jesus, you're some piece of work."

"I go for what I want."

"You sound like a fucking child. You need to get over yourself."

Her shit-eating grin only grows wider. In seconds, he's really going to start yelling in her face. This is the thing he abhors about life in the spotlight; the persistent flirting, sometimes the daring groping, sometimes the bullshit remarks about Haley.

"The next time you talk shit about my wife, you'll be sorry you had," he growls with disgust, his eyes cold as he stares down at her.

The flare of anger on his face and his tone makes her smile fade. "What, you're going to hit me?"

He finds satisfaction in seeing her tense. They may be separated by a few feet, but he can see the distress written all over her face. "Hit a woman? Not me. Haley, though? She packs one hell of a punch when motivated."

Karen takes a step backwards. She seems the kind of woman who would freak out if her hair was messed up in a fight. Over the last year, Haley has learned how to send a hard elbow into someone's gut.

"Do us all a favour and stay away from me and her."

With that, he takes off before letting loose the string of curses at the tip of his tongue. Is it possible to distance himself from a life of dealing with women like Karen?

As he rubs his eyes, a sense of déjà vu tickles his back. He recalls giving the same warning to a man while pummelling his face, after he had the audacity to take Jamie for a field trip without letting them know. The same lunatic had afterward assaulted Haley, brutally, at the back of their apartment building.

There are moments Nathan has unwittingly wondered what would have happened if Dan hadn't reached Haley in time. Cregg had her by the throat and he would have killed her, and they would be mourning her. Unquestionably, no resurrections up ahead. He gulps painfully like he usually does when the thought crosses his mind.

He drags a palm across his mouth. He misses that part of her, the one open to meeting anyone and giving them a shot, one that wasn't cagey about strangers. She had a warm welcome for his friends and his friends' friends, and Cregg broke that part of her. After an encounter where she was beaten and assaulted, he doesn't blame her.

His hands coil into fists as they always do when he thinks of Cregg, the shitbag who became obsessed with her, stalked her, deliberately hang about in the periphery and waited to catch her alone. That night is burned into his brain, every scene remembered, to be dragged up and analysed.

Jamie was already in bed and Haley wasn't home yet. He was worried, but she'd sent messages explaining the traffic. He still worried. He was putting the living room back to order after Jamie's "playtime before bedtime" when he got a call from his father. He stared at the screen, wanting to ignore it, but he took the call. He was going to give Dan a hard time about calling, but before he could utter a word, Dan told him, "I'm in the back of your apartment building and Haley has been hurt."

Confusion became horror when he understood that Haley had been hurt. He charged out of the apartment right there, and in a second, he was back in, rushing into Jamie's room. He left him with their neighbour Mrs. Everson, and as surprised as she was to his last-minute request, she didn't ask questions. Then he ran down the stairs, out the building and to the back.

Dan was on his knees beside her, phone in hand. She was unmoving. He can still remember the horrific image of her bruised, bloodied and battered face, her colour an alarming shade of grey, and the streams of red on her chin. It didn't hit him until later that the father he was estranged from was the one who had saved his wife from a madman.

He was in blind turmoil as he held her hand on the ambulance ride to the hospital, watching the paramedic wrap a neck brace on her, give her a shot of something, and flash a penlight into her closed eyes. Dan had told him that he had caught a man attacking her, and the only one he could think of was Sam Cregg. The force of his hatred and fury towards Cregg had shocked him; he didn't know where the man was, but the only thing he wanted was to kill him. The worthless bastard had tried to kill Haley, brutalized her, strangled her. He had left a warm, caring woman a wreck, and damaged her physically, mentally and emotionally, to the point where she changed her hair just to try to shake off the memory.

Then she told him that the scum hadn't just hit her; he had used her body in a perverse way, and she was left at the mercy of his sick mind. He could have easily committed murder as the story unrolled from her, her attitude stoic and cool like she was telling the plotline of a film. It seared him that she was impassive, gliding through the days with a vacant look in her eyes. And Jamie had noticed it, too.

It enraged him all the way to the root of his spine that a man could do that to a woman, to _his_ woman; she had never willingly shown him how bad it was underneath her clothes, and when she revealed the discolorations on her body she'd hidden from him, he couldn't hide his contempt any longer.

He gave in to the hatred and fury. He didn't mean to head over to the metropolitan hospital; he was out running, minding his own business, until his mind drove him to the business of what Haley had said about Cregg. He ran to the hospital at the heart of the business district. Riding on that buzz of anger and breathing hard from an unfinished run, he asked to see Cregg and found his room. He didn't cause a stir demanding to see a shitbag who had run out in front of a truck and lost the use of his limbs. He wanted to catch the miserable piece of shit by surprise.

Cregg was awake. He stood over him long enough until the scumbag blinked. At that moment, he drew his fist back and punched him hard in the face with all the burning rage he carried. The blood hadn't started to drip out of Cregg's nose when he drove another good whack. It felt great when his knuckles connected, felt that snap when the cartilage cracked, when Cregg screamed and cried like a little child. Calmly, he just walked out without looking back at the damage he'd caused. It wasn't nearly enough retribution for what the asshole had done to Haley. It did not erase the pain or bury the event, but he'd received the least possible kind of revenge.

She was hanging on by a thread, and he understood why she didn't want to talk about it. It just hurt him to see her barely holding on to her control. He made a decision to move them out of that apartment building. If a change of environment would give her a break, if it would give her some more peace of mind, then he was going to do it for her. He would do anything for her.

He stops his mind from drifting too far in the past should it destroy his composure. God knows he needs to keep his wits about him in this shitstorm they're in. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he trudges slowly towards the camp.

* * *

><p>"He looks good," Mary Jo says as she picks up her cup of cider.<p>

Deb shields her eyes with her hand, watching Jamie and Lucas as they laugh and run down the beach shore. "There's something about the beach that makes things better. Jamie's always loved the beach. I think he needed this."

"So did you."

"What?"

"You're not exactly in mint condition, Deb," Mary Jo says with concern.

"Thanks," she answers with a slight roll of her eyes.

"You know what I mean. I think this beach afternoon will do you both good."

Deb runs a hand through her hair. "I'm just tired, I guess."

Mary Jo nods, turning her face to the sky to soak up the summer sun. "It's a tough time, Deb, but I know it'll all work out."

"I hope so," she yawns, leaning back on the blanket, the heat making her drowsy. "I'm just going to take a quick nap now that my body feels like it."

A shadow falls over them and they both look up, squinting against the sunlight.

"Jamie wants to drop by the beach house to see Dan," Lucas pants as he crouches beside the ladies, water dripping down the tips of his hair. "Is he there?"

"I left him making some calls so he should still be around," Mary Jo replies, perching her sunglasses on her button nose.

"Your grandpa's home," he says, addressing Jamie over his shoulder. "You want to run there or get a piggyback ride?"

"Piggyback!" the boy shouts, throwing his small arms around Luke's neck. "I don't wanna run!"

Lucas pretends to crumble. "Oh, my bones!"

Jamie giggles, squirming on Luke's back as he plays along on their usual joke. "Did I break them?"

"I think I'm alright. I forgot that you're getting bigger."

"And taller!"

"And taller."

"That's what I said!"

"Lucas?" Deb calls as he adjusts Jamie on his back.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she says with a smile, toying with her big straw hat.

"No problem," he grins. "Ready, sport? We're gonna make a run for it."

"Ready!"

The impressive two-storey beach house is a one-minute walk from the shoreline. Lucas is not looking forward to knocking on that door. Jamie does it for him, running up the steps and rapping his knuckles on the door.

"Grandpa, it's me. Jamie. Are you home?"

Lucas hopes he's not. In a few seconds, the door is opened wide, and he is speared by displeasure when he sees Dan's wider smile.

"Hey, Jamie."

Jamie throws his arms around Dan's legs, his usual greeting for his close relatives. "Hi! Mary Jo said you were home and me and Uncle Lucas wanted to say hi."

Dan looks up as if just noticing him there. Lucas wants to scramble back the way they came from.

"I'm glad you did. Come on in."

The two of them disappear into the house, and with the door open, it doesn't give him much choice on whether to stay or leave. He checks his rudeness and hostility at the door.

Furnished comfortably but lacking in a personal touch of family photos, the beach house is an expansive, open-plan space, and a wide staircase leads to the next floor. They've been here once since Dan gave Nate the title deed, over Christmas break, but that was only for a few days. It wasn't long enough for it to seem lived-in and owned, like they were only renters. The place looked the same as it did back in high school when they'd have parties here, but Deb had upgraded the electronics and some of the furnishings.

"I put your gifts in your room," Dan's saying. "You want to check them out again?"

With a nod, Jamie's off, running up the stairs. Lucas feels abandoned. He takes the farthest seat away from Dan on the couch. The flat screen television is quietly tuned to the news.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No."

It's awkward. Lucas keeps his face neutral, his gaze wandering out to the French doors. He has to admit that the view is spectacular.

"Your brother told me that you'll be sharing the house."

Without turning to Dan, Lucas grunts, the same way he did when Nate told him what he planned for the beach house. It was a family house, he'd said, which meant that Lucas could claim it as his, too. If he wanted to spend time here with Peyton, he could do so. Over summer, they could share it with their families. "Jamie and his cousins could spend the summer together. Grow up together and shit," Nate had said. Luke just smacked the back of his head, but he couldn't deny that the idea appealed to him.

"Can we stop with the bullshit already? Nate's not here. Or Haley. You don't have to talk to me and I don't have to talk to you," Lucas says flatly, not looking Dan's away.

"Jamie's here."

Lucas feels a flash of frustration. His head snaps explosively in Dan's direction. "Don't. I'm over it, Dan."

"The hell you are."

Luke slides forward in his seat, saying deadpan at Dan's impassive face, "Fuck you."

Dan is not shocked, having heard similar statements over the years from Lucas. It impresses him, though, that Lucas suppresses his negative emotions for Nathan's sake. He wouldn't have done the same for his brother Keith, and he would toss him whatever came to mind. That's another relationship where a genuine truce has not been made.

"I know how much you hate it that you were put in a position where you can't be an asshole to me. Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are that Nathan and Haley allowed me to see Jamie."

He pauses, opens his mouth and closes it. Lucas hates that he's looking into eyes the exact same colour as his. Dan seems to think intensively about what he'll say next.

"I did not intend to save her that night, Lucas, but I did," Dan says in a quieter tone. "I didn't save her to get an in, but in saving her, I saved myself. I saved that part of me that saw things more clearly about my past, my actions, my mistakes and my children."

Lucas processes it all as with anything that involves his biological father, with an assortment of monstrous bitterness, hatred and mistrust. He should be appreciative and like the man for saving Haley from a dickbag, but he can't bring himself to consider it for more than a second.

"I'm sorry for everything, Lucas, and I will never stop apologizing for my mistakes."

There is a lot of unfinished business, and he is not feeling like taking in this vibe right now. "Fuck you, fuck your apologies and everything in between."

Lucas stands, hurrying towards the staircase and yelling, "Jamie, we're leaving. Let's go get some ice-cream."

Eloquent, his eldest son is. It's not until they're trotting along the beach that he wonders what will loosen up Lucas to him; a round in a boxing ring might just do the trick. It would be very interesting to see Lucas' reaction to that.

* * *

><p>"Look who the wind blew in," Patty beams, eyes gleaming with affection. "My hero."<p>

Nathan chuckles shyly, digging his hands into his pockets. "Hardly, Patty. How are you feeling?"

"Very hungry," she smirks. "But I'm not too bad. Thinking of taking a walk soon."

"Don't brag. We know you don't have a broken leg," Molly drawls.

"You're too bitter for your own good, Mol," her sister responds.

Nathan throws Haley a questioning look and she just shakes her head slightly.

"Can we talk?" he begins anxiously.

Haley nods, excusing herself. She's known her husband long enough to know when he wants to tell her something gravely important.

"Are you okay?" she asks nervously once they're out of earshot, standing at the edge of the woods.

He stares at her for a long moment. "I have to go."

Haley frowns, not comprehending what he's talking about. "Go where?"

"Out of here."

"I don't understand."

He breathes out heavily, speaks quietly, "We want to find help."

Her head jerks back as if she's been slapped. "What? We who?" she quizzes fairly breathlessly, a stricken look on her face.

"The crew has been talking and it's the only way we can get out of here," he explains carefully. "It's been two days and the weather is not changing fast enough. No one knows where we are, we have no food, more people could get sick, and we really have to get out of here."

Instead of answering, she's nodding dutifully at his explanation, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans. A tingle is creeping rapidly along her spine.

"Hales."

He tugs her hand out from her pocket, takes hold of it between his hands, kisses her fingertips and locks their fingers together. "We have no choice."

"Why do you have to go?" she says angrily, trying to pull out her hand from his. "Why do _you_ have to be so selfless and…and such a martyr? Why did you offer to tag along on some death mission?" Her ears are buzzing. "Did you think of me, Nathan? Do you have any idea—"

"Haley."

She loosens her hand from his grasp, her eyes flashing with fear, not anger. "No, Nathan," she shakes her head vigorously. "_This_ could be it. _This_ could be the one that finally…you…I…"

Her lips tremble as her voice drifts off, the fear weighing her brain down as a tear trickles along the side of her face.

"I-I can't lose you, Nathan," she weeps. He's her safety.

"You won't."

"You don't know that," she grumbles. "What if—"

"No," he cuts in with a heartbreaking whisper.

Panic, fear and déjà vu take over, her shoulders slumping before she drops to the ground, a harsh moan leaving her lips. His chest aches as he plunks down beside her, enveloping her small frame. Her fear, _their_ fear, is understandable.

"Oh my God…"

"Baby, I know. I'll be okay. I promise."

The thought of losing him, for good this time, is like bile filling her throat. Her fingers wrap tightly on his shirt as she sobs into his chest.

They sit like that for a couple of minutes, Nathan stroking her back in reassurance. He tells her repeatedly that he'll be fine and that it's the only way to get them all home safely.

"Be okay, be careful, be okay," she snivels repeatedly, her voice muffled. Her nerves are somehow calmed down, although her heartbeat feels like it's pulsating all the way in her ankles.

"I will be."

She buries her head in the crook of his shoulder, kissing his jaw, his stubble coarse on her lips. She understands that he has to do this; it's the kind of guy he is, not one to sit back and let others do all the work.

"I-I still need you, Nathan," she admits quietly.

* * *

><p>"Jamie?" Deb calls out as she walks into the living room, wiping her hands on a tea towel.<p>

It's too quiet. No one stayed over tonight but Lucas promised Jamie another day at the beach tomorrow. Except for a few colouring books and crayons on the coffee table, the lounge area is empty. She moves away from the living room and starts up the stairs.

"Jamie? Honey?"

She treads softly on the polished floor, stopping at the slightly ajar door with the large green letter J pinned against the pristine white. He slept in his own bed last night, too.

"Jamie?" she whispers.

Pushing the door slowly open, she lands her gaze on the tiny, bare feet on top of the comforter. His face is to the door, his small hands clutching a t-shirt and a basketball jersey.

She closes her eyes momentarily at the sorrow in her chest and steps into the room. She adjusts him carefully on the bed, pulling the covers over him, not oblivious to his slightly puffy and pink nose, cheeks and mouth. He's been crying.

Biting down on her quivering lower lip, Deb reaches for the clothes in his hand. At first, he's resistant letting them go, whimpering, but then relaxes his grip when she tugs again. She folds them neatly, the black t-shirt with "Haley's Comet" scrawled across in white, the blue and white Duke jersey with the number twenty-three on the back, and sets them at the foot of the bed.

When she gives him a kiss, he stirs, his eyelids fluttering.

"Mommy?" he mumbles sleepily.

Deb freezes.

"You came back," he says with a smile, eyes then falling shut slowly before turning his face away.

Swallowing back the ache in her throat, she walks out of the room quickly. She hasn't seen or heard him cry since he was told they were missing. Mostly, he's been distant, aloof and scared. No matter what anyone says, he takes it with a grain of salt, being brave when he really doesn't need to be.

She sits at the top of the stairs thinking about everything, and the tears come; those tears that have been her constant companion for days. She holds the towel over her mouth to muffle her cries, sobbing and blubbing gutturally into it.


	9. Chapter 9

At the crack of dawn, hugs and tears go round as goodbyes are said to the group heading out to find help. Haley's eyes are no drier, glazed with warm, unshed tears as she holds onto her husband.

"Be careful. You have to be careful, honey."

He squeezes her tighter, understanding what she means.

"I mean it, Nathan," she says quietly. "I swear if I don't see you again, _alive_, I will…I…I will hurt you."

Her throat closes up as another rush of tears fills her eyes. He laughs wryly, his heart beating wildly against his chest. This will not be the final straw of their life together, he vows. Since the train accident that had taken her away from him for months, where he had been grieving for her, he's not settling for anything less than fifty years together.

"I'll be careful," he answers, his fingers playing with her hair. "And we have a compass, so we're not trekking blindly."

She sniffles as they pull apart, her heart rate spiked to a rapid beat. "I – I miss you already."

Nathan lifts up her chin with his finger, leaning down to kiss her. It's tender and sweet, and as they break apart, love is evident in their eyes; the love they've had for each other since they were sixteen.

"Nathan."

Haley glances away, wiping at the dampness on her cheeks she's suddenly noticing as the pilot approaches them.

"We have to go," he says, glancing quickly at the young woman.

Nathan nods, his lips pursed together, torn between staying here with his wife and being useful by seeking out help.

"Don't do that," she says firmly after the pilot is gone. It's obvious where his thoughts are. "I'll be fine. I won't drown, I promise," she smiles, pushing down her heartache.

He hugs her to him, kissing her temple and her cheek. "I'll see you soon, okay?" he whispers in her ear.

Nodding, she snuggles against his chest before lifting her face, putting her hands on either side of his face and crushing her lips to his. "I love you."

He kisses her lightly once more, his fingers running over the side of her face gently. "And I love you."

And then he's walking away slowly to join the departing group, her breath catching as they wave to each other until the fog swallows him up.

Her fingers are still pressed to her mouth when she feels someone's arm around her shoulders. She turns her misty eyes to Rebecca, leaning slightly towards her friend.

"They'll be okay, Haley," Rebecca assures, squeezing Haley's shoulder. "He's doing a really good thing."

Mentally shaking herself sober, Haley nods, pulling in a long deep breath, and then calmly says, "They'll be fine."

* * *

><p>Allan finds him staring out the window, his fingers splayed on the glass.<p>

"What are you thinking about?" he asks curiously, rolling back the sleeves of his shirt.

"Stuff," Jamie answers solemnly, pressing his nose to the glass.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Mama."

Allan bows his head a little, that distressing feeling looming over his head. "I bet she misses you."

He looks away from the window. When he smiles, he looks like a completely different person. It's an all-inclusive smile that's in his whole face, right from his lips to his eyes.

"I miss her. I miss Daddy."

Jamie sighs deeply, his eyes saddening once more before he turns back to the window. "I miss them a lot, Grandpa."

"I know. But even before two shakes of a rabbit's tail, they'll be back home."

He giggles softly, blowing a raspberry on the window.

"Someone wants to talk to you, Jamie," Deb says, shaking the cell phone in her hand at him.

He about bounds halfway across the room, hand outstretched for the phone. The nowadays-sporadic smile fills his face. "Hello? Grandma!"

"Lydia?" Allan mouths to Deb as he picks up the mail.

She nods, pulling him away from the living room by the elbow. "They didn't know," she explains in a whisper. "They were trying to call Haley but…they're in Italy but they'll try to get here as soon as possible."

"What about Haley's brothers and sisters? I presume the entire family isn't in Italy?"

"I don't think so but none of them have called. If the crash hasn't hit the national news, Lydia will let them know."

"Well, that's good. Sometimes it's hard to remember that Haley is not an only child."

Deb nods in agreement. "Are you about to leave?"

"As soon as I'm done with this," he says, tossing a letter on the hallway table. "Since when do we get so many of these?"

"Since Nathan and Haley redirected their mail here. Can you take Jamie with you? There's some sort of crisis at Tric and Peyton needs my help."

"Of course. I saw some kids yesterday at campus. I think there's a daycare program for faculty that comes in handy during these meetings."

She kisses his cheek. "Thank you so much. Bring him back by noon. Lucas wants to take him to the beach."

"I know."

With another kiss to the cheek, she heads for the study. Letters in hand, Allan watches Jamie as he chats on the phone, both hands gripping the cell phone. If he had a magic wand, he would summon someone and ask them to quit picking on those two kids. Whoever it is who calls the shots on the mechanisms of this fickle world needs to cut it out.

* * *

><p>"How's the leg?" Haley asks, kneeling next to Molly.<p>

The older woman grins, admiring the makeshift cast made from tree branches. The leg is slightly puffy, but less so than the day their plane crashed. "Not too bad. I must say the fellas did a good job."

"Oh, Lord," Patty says with an eyeroll. "You've been whining about a phantom itch for the last half hour."

"How would you know it's been half an hour? I don't remember seeing you in possession of a watch."

"I've been on this earth for the last sixty-four years, Mol. I've picked up a few things here and there."

"Like how to divorce husbands as soon as you marry them?"

"You've had three husbands, kettle."

"And they all died. I did not divorce them."

"Excuse me for having standards."

"For losers."

"That's not fair. Miles was a good one."

"So good that he stole your car the day before your first anniversary."

Haley is so captivated by their banter that she doesn't hear Rebecca settle down beside her.

"What are they arguing about this time?" the brunette asks, crossing her legs.

Haley turns away from the bickering ladies. "It moved from telling time to taste in husbands."

"This morning, they were arguing about the refrigerator."

"The refrigerator?"

Rebecca nods. "The refrigerator. Apparently, Patty still wants to draw blood because Molly went behind her back and ordered the white one instead of the grey one that she had requested. I can't blame her. I was mad at my mother for months when she painted my room pink instead of black."

Haley chuckles. "I hate pink, too."

"See? Not all girls like pink. I was fourteen and going through a hell of a dark phase. It took me years to get over that."

"Teenagers," Haley gives out a big exaggerated sigh and a shake of the head.

Rebecca bumps her gently with her shoulder. "Don't hate on my melodrama, child bride."

"Child bride?" Haley laughs, swatting a leaf from her jeans.

"Did you even have your driving license?"

"Girls, would you rather have a pool table or a dart board?" Patty puts them on the spot, cutting off their laughter.

Rebecca and Haley exchange a glance, wondering if an answer will be an underlying affirmation to whom they favour. The sisters are different in physique and personality, but they share a warmth and sweetness that is loveable when they fuss over one of the passengers.

"You play darts?" Haley asks instead.

"Patty does," Molly answers. "I prefer knitting needles and pool tables to pointers."

"Judas Priest, Mol," Patty swears.

Rebecca throws Haley a questioning look, mouthing, Judas Priest? Haley rubs her nose as she hides her smile.

"They're not pointers. They're called darts. _Darts_," she emphasizes.

"One of these days, I'm expecting this daredevil to buy a motorcycle," Molly tells the younger women. "Sometimes I swear she's in denial about her age."

"Says the woman who masqueraded as a fifty-two-year-old chef in her dating profile," Patty scoffs.

"I _am_ a chef. And that number was an error in their system." Molly upturns her nose. "I know I marked my birth date correctly."

Patty taps Molly's wrinkled hand. "Of course you did, honey. An error of ten years. And you're not a chef. You just like baking."

"At least I have a career."

"It's not a career when you're giving out free muffins to meeting groups in the church basement."

"Don't forget the shelter."

"You're hopeless. I can't believe we're related."

"Me, either," Molly snorts. "I wouldn't be surprised if one of us was adopted."

"Don't hold your breath, old woman. That same birthmark you have on your—"

"So why were you flying to Montana?" Haley blurts.

Rebecca sighs faintly with relief. In the short while they've been stranded, if someone doesn't put a stop to their squabbling, the ladies could argue for hours. They just about light up, grinning at each other.

"Molly here was going to meet her new beau." Patty pats her sister's thigh caringly. "Weren't you, my sweet Molly Malone?"

Molly blushes, a pleasant shade of pink against her snow white hair.

"Sweet Molly Malone? You're named after an Irish folk song?" Rebecca asks.

Patty turns to her with a megawatt smile. "You know your music, lassie."

"My grandmother emigrated from Ireland," Rebecca laughs, "and she was constantly singing traditional songs and telling me stories about leprechauns."

"Heritage is important. Molly sometimes becomes a sweet Malone when she earns it."

"Patty," Molly scolds.

Her sister waves it away with her good hand. "You've known it for ages. Anyway, for fear of hearing on the news that a madman skinned her alive and made a rug out of her wrinkled skin, I wanted to tag along."

"You were just terrified of being left alone at home."

"I'm a very brave soul, Molly Donovan. You should be buying me a new refrigerator for looking out for you."

Molly groans, pulling at her pearl-studded ear. "I don't know why white bothers you so much, Patty. It shows purity."

"It just does." Patty argues with a sigh. "You know what else bothers me?"

"What?"

"I'm so hungry that I actually wish I could eat your terrible gumbo concoction."

"I'm surprised you didn't say whisky."

"I do not have a drinking problem."

"I didn't say you did."

Before Patty can retort, Rebecca jumps in. "Haley was just telling me about her wedding!"

She turns to Haley, giving her a gentle nudge. "Weren't you, Haley?"

Snapping closed her parted mouth at the sisters' argument, Haley stutters, "Uh, yes. My, uh, um, my wedding."

Molly claps giddily. "Do tell."

"Um, uh," she starts, feeling foolish for her tripping tongue, her mind whirring back to that spring day when they renewed their vows.

"Well, when Nathan and I got married the first time, it was just my parents and us, and for years we kept talking about it until…"

She hesitates, losing herself in that memory of seeing her husband banged up and unconscious for three months.

"Until what?" Patty inquires.

Haley blinks, returning to the present. "Um, until last year when we decided to finally get to it."

A sweet smile curves on her lips. "There's a spot on the beach back in Tree Hill that has all these pretty purple flowers and the purest sand, the same spot we had gotten married on when we were sixteen. So we went back there over spring break and did it all over again."

"How romantic," Rebecca gushes dreamily.

Intimate and meaningful, just how they wanted it. Nathan had promised her a new wedding ring, but he didn't tell her what it was. He surprised her with a rose gold band, two millimetres thick, studded with five diamonds in a single row, one for each year they've been married. Nothing elaborate, a simple and delicate eternity band that gave her new memories in comparison to the old ring that she still harboured dark feelings for.

"We didn't make much fuss over it and it was perfect with only our closest family and friends."

And by closest, the ones who lived in Tree Hill, the same people who pitched in with the details of the wedding. Considering the travel time between Durham and Tree Hill, and attending school, Haley and Nathan had to make bookings by phone. Their friends were quick in making trips to flower shops and City Hall to ensure that everything was in place. It was a perfect day.

"I bet your father was in tears when he walked you down that sandy aisle," Molly sighs.

Haley grins rather proudly. "Actually, Jamie did."

He held her hand as they walked down the beach shore to meet up with Nathan and their guests, a wide grin on his baby face as he looked back and forth between his parents.

_"You look real pretty, Mama."_

"Your son?" Patty laughs lowly. "Judas Priest, how sweet! Did you hear that, Mol?"

Molly grins sardonically. "I'm not deaf, Patty. I'm sitting right next to you."

"You can't blame me for confirming since you got those prescription glasses."

"Reading glasses do not translate to hearing aids, Patty. I swear sometimes you make me doubt my health and sanity. And look at this." Molly adjusts the sweatshirt that's serving as a sling around Patty's neck. "I have to take care of this myself."

"You do take care of me better than I do," Patty smiles.

"Yet you're older than me. Lord knows what you would do without me."

Haley shakes her head in amusement, laughing softly and turning away from the ladies to Rebecca. "What about you? Mind if I ask why you were headed to Montana?"

Rebecca sighs heavily, blowing her lips together. "Visiting friends. And I was going to be in a commercial."

"You're an actress?"

She shakes her head. "A friend asked for a favour. All I had to do was gush about some fresh-off-the-mountain bottled water and make contented noises."

"Contented noises?" Haley chuckles.

"As a bonus, my mother would have been livid thinking that I had started down a path of iniquity," she snickers.

From the snippets when Rebecca has mentioned her mother, Haley gathers that they do not have a genial relationship. She honestly believes that Rebecca and Miller would mesh, rounding out each other in the most comparable way with their different backgrounds and lifestyles.

"Or she would have been incredibly proud of you."

Melancholy clouds Rebecca's face. "I don't know about that, Haley. We are way past the pleasing each other stage. We've really never been there and I'm used to hearing disapproving words instead."

Haley pats her friend's arm in comfort. She understands when the tie with Nathan, Lucas and Dan is similar. "Who knows? When we're out of here, she'll be fussing over you and your relationship will improve."

"Who knows, indeed," Rebecca says thoughtfully, doubtful of her mother changing her ways.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hey, sport."

At the sight of his uncle, Jamie smiles, a sad but sweet smile. "Hi, Uncle Lucas. You came."

"'course I did," Luke returns, padding to the boy's bed. "I already set up your stuff in my car. You ready?"

Jamie smiles, looking genuinely pleased. "I have to get my shoes."

He drops to the floor, forehead touching the carpet, kneeling to look under the bed. "Are we gonna make a sand castle? I wanna make one."

"Sure."

Lucas observes him as he grabs the sandals by their straps and jumps back on the bed. "You need some help putting them on?"

"No. I can do it. Daddy helps me with my school shoes sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"When I don't do it good myself."

"Can I ask you something?" Lucas asks anxiously.

Jamie straps a sandal over his small foot. "Okay."

"How are you doing? About your mom and dad, I mean."

Jamie thinks for a bit. "I feel sad and then I feel happy."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sad that Mama and Daddy are gone," the young boy replies, looking up at Lucas' face, "but I'm happy that Grandma Lydia said she's coming and I'm happy that I'm going to the beach. Is it bad that I'm happy?"

Lucas puts his hand gently on his nephew's shoulder. "You want to hear a secret? Your mom and dad want you to be happy, not sad. They'll always want you to be happy."

After a moment, Jamie asks, "You want to hear a secret?"

"Of course."

Jamie casts a quick look at his bedroom doorway. "I watched a grownup show last night and I didn't tell Grandma," he whispers.

Stuck in the horror of what a "grownup show" could really mean , Lucas asks cautiously, "What show?"

"_Gossip Girl_."

Lucas breathes steadily and laughs loudly. "_Gossip Girl_?"

Jamie nods, feeling guilty about his admission. "Grandma says it's bad for me but I like it. Don't tell her, okay?"

His uncle makes a move of zipping his lips together and turning an imaginary key. "Your secret is safe with me. Don't tell Aunt Peyton but I've watched it a few times, too," Lucas winks conspiratorially.

Jamie giggles, holding his hands over his mouth. "It's so good that it's bad."

Lucas hoots, picking him up from the bed and carrying him under his arm like a football. "Where did you hear that?"

"_Gossip Girl_!" Jamie shrieks, spreading his arms out to fly as he is spun around.

* * *

><p>"Hi, Haley."<p>

Haley represses a groan as she looks up at the other woman. Nathan had shared with her the conversation they'd had, and she had felt instantly irked.

"Hey, Karen."

"Need some help?" the blonde asks.

She straightens, looking down at her pile of wet wood. "Um, sure. I seem to be finding more wet wood than dry."

"I know where to look. Nathan showed me," she says with a catty smile, as if wanting to provoke Haley.

Their eyes meet, Karen's flashing, a faint, small sham of a smile on her thin lips. Haley's mind whirs with momentary disdain that she puts on the backburner. Karen stands in the place of the girls who make it their mission to hunt down Nathan. Most of all, Karen reminds her of a certain Duke cheerleader who had made it a mission to aggravate her after finding out that Nathan was taken. Cordial and civil is the only way to get through this conversation.

"He did?" she asks through gritted teeth, picking up a few broken twigs.

With a small shrug and a teasing smile, Karen says, "Late the other night. He's really good with his hands."

She's learned to maintain her cool when she encounters women like Karen. With Nathan going to the pros, it's useless giving in to the temptation of throwing a conniption fit every time a woman makes a pass at him.

"And he showed me a really big one."

"A really big what?"

"Piece of wood," Karen responds, smiling patronizingly in satisfaction.

Haley is momentarily quiet, a flurry of irrational thoughts of going crazy on the woman running through her mind. Karen strikes her as the type of person who gets a kick out of messing up relationships, and keeping a tally of her successes. Perhaps it's too harsh a judgment but her calculating smile is quite hard to ignore and analyse.

"You realize that that's my husband you're so blatantly making sexual suggestions about?" she utters plainly, looking past Karen's shoulder, into the fog that lifts with each passing day.

Karen shrugs again. "Semantics."

Haley sighs. Semantics? "Well, how about the fact that even if he were around, you still wouldn't have a shot. And I'm sure he made that clear."

Karen seems to redden slowly, lips tightening into a flat line. "Marriage doesn't hide the fact that he's fair game, young girl."

Rankled, Haley kicks cordiality to hell. "Are you delusional?" she asks angrily, before deciding on taking a small step back instead of springing forward and tearing at the blonde's face. These scenarios are getting a bit too cliché.

Silence falls between them, neither one of them flinching.

"Look, Karen," she goes on in a low tone after collecting herself, passing a hand through her hair, "you're barking up the wrong tree. I'm sure that if Nathan were here, he wouldn't be so nice about your come-ons. Aren't there single guys back there that you can freely flirt with?"

The blonde is fuming, her eyes gleaming with what is akin to fire. "You condescending bitch."

"I'm not being bitchy, just making a suggestion," Haley says smoothly, bending to gather her pile of wood. "If you'll excuse me, I need to take this back to the camp. Are you still going to collect the dry stuff?"

Karen laughs tauntingly. "Are you insane?"

Her cackle reminds Haley of a witch. With a toss of her blonde mane, Karen turns, starting the walk back towards the camp.

"And by the way," she stops, looking sideways over her shoulder, "it may not be me who'll be successful with your precious husband, but a delicious piece of ass like that is bound to stray someday. After all, I heard he's going big. Isn't he, Mrs. Scott?"

She throws Haley a haughty wink before turning on her three-inch taupe booties, leaves crunching as she heads back the way she had come from. "Just so you know!"

Fuming, lips drawn tightly, eyes fixed on the blonde's back, Haley's fists curl around the pieces of firewood in her hands as they bite into her skin, willing the branches to clobber the woman by their own accord.

"Condescending bitch."

* * *

><p>"I still think it looks funny, Uncle Lucas."<p>

"I think it looks great. What do you think, Skills?"

Hooking his forefinger on the bridge of his sunglasses, Skills slips them down to the end of his nose, his gaze drifting between the sandcastle and the ocean. "I think y'all should move."

He draws the glasses back before pulling his hat lower on his head. "Tide's coming in."

Before they can even react, the water wave hits the castle, tearing its foundation down and washing away fractions of it.

"Shit!" Jamie pipes, pushing back water frantically with his little hands.

Lucas and Skills gape at him, speechless. A light breeze blows past, both watching the young boy begin to stock his plastic bucket with wet sand.

"Where…where did you hear that?" Lucas manages finally, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"You said it," Jamie answers, sitting back on his legs as the sand turns soggy and cold around them.

He's at that age where kids are very good at mimicking what those around them say.

"I did?" Lucas asks, chuckling nervously.

"When you were driving. Somebody made you mad."

Water hits the shore again, eroding the castle further before sweeping back its collection to the ocean. Jamie exclaims again, much louder this time, earning a few looks from the beachgoers around them.

"Dude," Skills mutters lowly to Lucas, "you've messed up Nate's kid. He's gonna kill you."

Lucas whips his head to his friend, a look of guilt on his face. If his brother won't kill him, his sister-in-law will. "You don't think I know that?"

"They go away for a weekend and you have their son saying all sorts of nasty sh—things. You are dead, man." Skills shakes his head disapprovingly, continuing like he hasn't heard Lucas speak. "I knew I shoulda been godfather."

In a calm and low voice, Lucas says, "You're not helping, Skills."

"I know," Skills grins, peering over his sunglasses again. "So what are you waiting for? You can't wash his mouth out with soap, ya know."

Lucas turns to Jamie. "Jamie, you can't say things like that."

"Things like what?"

"That was a bad word you said," he manages, almost in a whisper.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

He's also at that age where they question everything, dissecting it until they're completely pleased.

"You just shouldn't."

"But you said it."

"And I shouldn't have."

"But it's fun to say."

"You still can't say it."

"Can I say it when I grow up?"

"Can he, Uncle Lucas?" Skills quips, earning a glower from Lucas.

"Jamie, remember that time your mom gave you quiet time for saying those bad words?"

There was some sort of kerfuffle between Jamie and a video controller, and a few words were hurled at the inanimate object, words rhyming with mustard and witch.

"And she made me eat soap," the boy adds, grimacing. His eyes widen. "Are you gonna make me eat soap, Uncle Lucas?"

"Uh, no."

Jamie seems relieved.

"But what I'm trying to say is that the word you said—"

"Shi—"

"Yes! That one! If your mom heard you say it, she would make you eat soap. And then turn to me," he adds in a grumble.

"And then kill you," Skills mumbles under his breath.

"You are really not helping," Lucas whispers, making Skills laugh. "Jamie, how about we find you some other words to say?"

"Like what?"

He has to think fast before he completely loses control of this. "I, uh, I've heard Whitey say Jiminy Cricket sometimes."

Jamie giggles. "Jimmy Cricket? Is that Grandpa Jimmy?"

The older men laugh, too.

"No, it's not your grandpa Jimmy, but you like it?" Lucas asks hopefully.

Jamie nods. "Jimmy Cricket! Jimmy Cricket!"

Lucas breathes out heavily, not having realized that he had been negotiating with a four-year-old with bated breath. Crisis averted.

"All _you_ gotta do now is use Jiminy Cricket, too," Skills jibes.

"Don't you have some girls to make passes at?"

"Now that you mention it…"

Skills takes a quick look around the beach, grinning when he sees a group of girls stepping out of the water. "I feel lucky, today."

And with that, he jogs down the beach towards them. Jamie rebuilds the castle, and the next time the water rolls in, he infallibly says, "Jimmy wicket."

"You wanna play?"

The small voice belongs to a boy not much older than Jamie in black swim shorts and a tan sun hat, strap cinched under his chin, bits of red hair peeking out from beneath the hat.

Jamie is already on his feet, tugging at his own sun hat and asking hopefully, "Can I play, Uncle Lucas?"

"Don't go into the water, okay?"

"Thank you!"

The two boys run off, laughing like they've been friends for the longest time. Lucas fishes for a soda from the cooler and sits back on the beach blanket to take a look around. Jamie and his new friend are playing along the shore with other kids; he looks like the smallest in the bunch. The beach is not crowded, yet, but it will eventually fill up on a hot day like today.

Breathing in the salt-scented air, Lucas can hardly believe that his shrieking-with-joy nephew's parents are actually missing. The news has been talking about a delayed rescue mission because of fog.

He grinds his teeth together, fingers tightening around the soda can. _Fog_. When the rest of the country is on the verge of a heat wave, there's a place in Montana that is foggy. That plane went down two days ago and there has been no news about the rescue progress. No news is good news, he hopes.

"Hello."

The red-haired woman drops down next to him without waiting for his response, sending some sand flying around them. "Sorry!" she grimaces, dragging her broad framed sunglasses from her eyes and hanging them on the neck of her tunic.

Squinting against the sun, Lucas gives her a smile. "It's okay."

Her honey-coloured brown eyes are shining, small laugh lines creasing at the corners. "I'm Fay, Leo's mom." Her long blazing hair is a similar colour to her son's.

Lucas wipes his sandy palm on his shorts and reaches out to shake her hand. "Lucas, Jamie's uncle."

"Boys' day out?" she asks with a smile, placing her book between them.

"Something like that," he answers before draining the rest of his orange soda in one gulp.

"I can't believe how hot it is today. We've been coming to the beach for the last three days," Fay says, pulling down her large straw hat and fanning herself with it.

"You live close by?" Lucas enquires politely, still thinking about Nathan and Haley.

Fay nods, dabbing at her forehead with the back of her wrist. "About five minutes away. What about you?"

"Ten. Twenty or thirty heading back."

"Tree Hill traffic?" she grins.

"Tree Hill traffic," he agrees with a smile.

Out of the blue, Skills drops down on the blanket, flinging droplets of water on Luke. "Where's J-Luke?" he asks, patting his face dry.

"Making friends. How did it go?"

Skills whistles through his teeth. "I don't think I've been this excited about a…"

He then seems to notice Fay. His mouth curls into a broad charming smile. He gives her a once-over while sticking his hand out. "Hello, there. I'm Antwon."

Lucas breathes a short laugh, looking out again towards the ocean. The kids seem to be playing some sort of game. He thinks of how much easier it was when he was a kid, untroubled about life's messiness.

It's unavoidable listening to the other two flirting, so he takes out his phone. He finds a message from Peyton, asking him to meet her at Tric instead of the café. He composes a quick reply and stuffs the phone back in his pocket.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream rings through the air. The three lift their eyes to look around, just like everyone else, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound.

"What was that?" Fay mutters quietly, as though to herself.

Another sharp scream makes them leap to their feet. It's followed by the shrill shriek of a whistle.

"Can you see the boys?" Lucas asks in alarm, walking rapidly in the direction of the group of kids that has now stepped away from the water. There's no sign of a blonde-haired boy in a washed denim hat, blue shirt and white swim shorts.

"Mom! Mom! _Mom!_"

They all snap to attention as Leo runs towards them, flailing his arms.

"Leo! Are you okay?"

"Mom, it's Jamie! Jamie!" the boy cries, pointing to the ocean. "The water took him!"

Lucas feels blood drain from his face as the words pierce through his mind. In a flash, he's darting down the beach towards the water in what seems to be slow motion, briefly aware that Skills is right behind him. Jamie is in the water.

Something pricks his foot but he doesn't give it any thought. Fear plagues him with every step. It's been hours by the time his feet are splashing in the water. He dunks under in a frantic search for his nephew.

"Jamie!" they both call out. "Jamie!"

Holding his breath, Lucas plunges under again, trying to see through the salty obscure water, seeing nothing but the bottomless ocean. _"Jamie!"_

He curses softly, repeatedly, turning every which way back on the surface. He shouts for Jamie, his plea unanswered. His heart races to a mad, frightened beat. Then he finally sees something.

A lifeguard. A lifeguard who is carrying a small body as he treads in the water, heading for the shore. A small, limp, unconscious body in water-drenched white shorts and a blue shirt.

"Oh, Jesus…"

A sick feeling overcomes him, infiltrating his chest. His stomach is churning like someone is repeatedly punching him in the gut with the aim of making him vomit. For a moment, he's afraid he may pass out, slip under and sink to the bottom.

"Call an ambulance and get those people to back up from the water!" the beefy lifeguard commands, spitting out beads of water.

All questions fail on Luke's lips as he obediently starts to swim back towards the crowded shore, chilling terror smiting him with every stroke.


	11. Chapter 11

A restless sensation skulks somewhere in her conscience, nagging and tugging, refusing to go away. Like an itch she can't locate the source.

That sense of unease has been gnawing at her for the past few hours. Haley wraps the blanket tighter around herself and leans closer to the fire. Perhaps she's just chilly. Maybe the cold has leaked into her heart.

Moments later, as the heat from the fire warms her, the feeling does not go away. She lowers her head, shutting her eyes to wish it away. _I'm still here_, it says.

"You okay?"

Lifting her head, she sees Rebecca looking back at her closely, a worried gleam in her eyes.

"Haley?" she asks again, waiting for a response.

"Yes?" Haley croaks in a low whisper.

"You look upset," Rebecca says sympathetically. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Haley shoots her a forced smile, her facial muscles tightening with the effort. "I'm fine. I was just thinking. How about you?" she asks lightly, deflecting Rebecca's concern.

Some of the worry fades from Rebecca's eyes before she answers, "Yeah. Hungry, though."

"What do you miss most?" she prompts, redirecting the conversation further.

"I never thought I'd say this but I keep thinking of ham, marmalade and cottage cheese sandwiches. I loved them. No one ever wanted to swap with me. I used to carry them for lunch every day for a whole semester in high school. My mom would ask me why I couldn't eat like a normal person…"

Haley nods absentmindedly as Rebecca chats away. She twirls her wedding band around her finger, that sensation intense and roiling away at her subconscious mind and her gut. Terrible and violent images shoot through her mind of Nathan ripped to shreds by a bear or a mountain lion, or crushed to death by a boulder. She tries to shake off that sickly feeling, begging her emotions not to give her away and send her into an outburst of tremors.

It's stubborn, because come morning, the butterflies are still thrashing around in the pit of her stomach. She had a bad night. Those frightening images of Nathan in trouble kept her up, her sleep coming in snatches. She can't even pick up her cell phone and call him. She has to wait. She has to wait as that dark feeling settles in. Something is wrong. Something is seriously, seriously wrong.

A thought crosses her mind, making her eyes glaze over. It sloshes around in her brain, twisting her stomach, trapping her. That hand of gloom reaches into her chest, squeezing the life out of her, making her feel short of breath. Jamie.

"Anybody there?"

Heart pounding heavily, it takes her a moment to absorb her surroundings. Julie is waving a hand in front of her face.

"What?" she breathes out, all but moaning with agony.

"You just seemed to zone out. You okay, space cadet?" Julie asks with genuine concern.

"I…I'm fine," Haley answers, her throat constricting.

"Thinking about that hubby of yours?" Julie grins with a slight wink.

Haley squeaks a response, and the fake smile she gives seems to do brilliantly because Julie resumes prattling on about her job.

_Jamie. Nathan. Jamie. Nathan._

It's impossible to pay attention when her mind, body and soul are filled with inconceivable fear. She can almost taste it. It's crushing her, each slow rhythm of breath ending in a muffled cry as she fights against losing control.

_Jamie. Nathan._

* * *

><p>She's gazing out at the blue-grey lake, attempting to meditate away the headache, when she hears yelling coming from the camp; a cacophony of voices that has broken out in prolonged cries and screams of either jubilation or terror.<p>

For a brief moment, she wonders if bears have invaded the camp. And she doesn't care. She's up and running, the rubber soles of her high tops hitting against the soil as the camp comes into full view. There are no bears or animals, but there are new people; people in red and blue nylon suits, heavy backpacks and wide grins on their faces.

The air seems to suffocate with emotion as the stranded passengers scream, laugh and cry in celebration. Everyone is hugging, sobbing and sniveling noisily, with more screams rising as they flock around the rescue team. Someone is lying still on the ground a few feet away. Karen.

"Haley!"

Tears coursing down her cheeks, a crying Julie engulfs her in a hard hug. "They found us! They found us!"

Too astonished to reply, Haley just assesses everything around her. If God were to indeed make a visit for every time someone cries out 'Oh my God', He wouldn't bother returning to His throne. They've been saved.

She feels sour from head to toe. Her body is in need of a real shower, long and hot, instead of the fake showers they've had to make do with. Dirt covers her jacket, the grey crew neck t-shirt and jeans, and oh, how nice it's going to be to just strip off the grimy clothes.

There's a crackle of static from a handheld radio as one of the rescuers dispatches instructions for evacuations. The others are handing out bottles of water to passengers who are too high strung to hold the bottles firmly to their lips, water dripping down their chins.

Her feet seem to find a beat of their own to walk hastily towards the group of newcomers. Her breath hitches as she grabs the arm of one of the nylon-clad men, "David" sewn on the breast of his jacket.

"Are they okay? Did…did they get there okay?" she asks urgently in a trembling voice.

The man called David pats her arm, his green eyes crinkling at the corners with a warm smile. "Dehydrated and exhausted, but they're okay."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

Her blinding relief is evident as her shoulders sag with exhalation and resignation. She throws her slack arms around him, her eyes filling up with tears as she lets out that painful breath she had been holding in. He's okay. Nathan is okay.

She disengages herself from him, rushing to Rebecca and throwing her arms around her. "Rebecca!"

"We're going home, Haley!" Rebecca half-laughs and half-screams.

In reply, Haley rejoices with a shout of delight as they jump up and down. That peculiar worrisome feeling has dulled, not as tormenting as before, but it has not vanished yet. She's full of anticipation and agitation; she can't wait to see her husband, she can't wait to feel the solid warmth and strength of him again, she can't wait for the intensity to dissipate when she sees him.

* * *

><p>Steps away from the waiting room, Nathan stomps back and forth across the short open space. His stomach is in knots, his mind visualizes all sorts of scenarios of what the hell is going on at home.<p>

The swish of the opening hospital doors makes him look up. They're here. Anxiously, he looks out for her as the escorted passengers walk in. The press is held back by the police, but their yelled questions and camera flashes trail the passengers. Karen takes a moment to pose and blow them a kiss over her shoulder.

Nathan scans every face, and his heart falls to his knees when he finally sees Haley. Numbly, he watches from where he stands like a statue as she hugs Patty, Molly and Rebecca. The conversation he had with his mother, her sniffling and broken sentences over the phone, plays in his mind in loudspeakers.

_"You have to come home, Nate. It's Jamie."_

She refused to say more, just recited, "Come home." He wants to hurl, he wants to yell, and he wants to punch something.

When their eyes meet, the genuine Haley-like smile on her face makes him smile, too. The warm feeling is soon gone when she waves at him; it's replaced by the relentless fear he's had since he talked to his mother. This will break her.

They don't take their eyes off each other, Haley smiling goofily as she walks fast towards him. Her eyes are warm and excited while her hands run over his torso, cupping the sides of his face before she tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips.

"You're okay. Oh my God, you're okay," she repeats over and over again with unabashed relief between kisses, her fingers gliding through his hair.

He locks her against him in a tight hug, cheek nuzzling her hair. His eyes shut momentarily with the joy of seeing her, and in a search of the right words to use to break the news to her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks when they regretfully pull apart, her arms still around his waist. "I missed you."

He places a short gentle kiss on her lips. "I missed you, too. And I'm okay. How are you?"

"Happy to be here," she grins. "I'm dying for a shower."

His heart beats faster as he looks down at her, his knees rubbery and weak from what he's about to tell her. The fear and panic is almost strangling him.

Peering at him closely, Haley finds something regarding his body language that doesn't sit well with her. There's also something about his eyes that causes a cold feeling of alarm to wash over her. They look haunted and watery, and his demure control is unexpected. Their reunion should be surrounded by more cheerfulness rather than this strangeness.

"What is it, Nathan? Are you hurt?"

Her eyes run over his body looking for bandages and blood but she comes up short. "You're scaring me, baby. What's going on?"

His gaze steely on her face, she feels his warm hands on her arms. Her soul floods with an indescribable feeling of dread and horror, red-hot and sickening. She gently frees herself from his hold, stepping back to really look at him. All she wants to ask and say vanishes. His eyes tell her that something is terribly wrong.

With subdued courage, she asks, "What happened?"

Jamming his fingers into his hair, he wants to scream at the top of his lungs. "Jamie…" he croaks, a death-like paleness descending on his features.

Her heart begins to beat so recklessly fast that she feels like she's about to go into cardiac arrest. Her bones seem to be on vibration mode, pulsating so hard that she can feel her fingers tingling.

"Tell me," she pleads.

"He's in a coma," he finishes, nausea filling his throat.

She shakes her head. Cupping her hands over her mouth, she catches the muted scream that rises. The torn and worn look on his face gives her a jolt of emotion strong enough to weaken her knees. She's hyper-aware that he's told her that Jamie is in a coma, but she can't fully understand it.

"No…Not my baby…"

As the silence between them lengthens, she's becoming more and more lost in its dizzying sensation. It's clawing at her soul and feeding at her fear. She doesn't let herself burst into cries of fear and despair or let her body shake with every sob. She turns away from him, looking around them frantically as her distress mounts.

"What are you looking for?"

"The ticket counters. We need to get home."

His heart breaks more with pain at seeing her confusion. "Hales, we're at the hospital. There are no ticket counters."

"We need to go home, Nathan. N-now," she answers, her voice shaking.

"We are. I already spoke with the airline. They're working on our tickets."

She wheels around slowly to face him, her tearful face heart-wrenching to him. "Working on them?"

His frustration from dealing with them for the last hour lays hold of him. They almost died, for fuck's sake. The least they could do is get them the hell out of here when they want to. "We're leaving soon."

She can hardly think straight as images of the dreadful situation waiting for them at home flicker through her brain. Jamie is in a coma. Their shitty twist of fate found him, and her little boy is in a goddamn coma.

Through her foggy mind, Haley grabs Nathan's hand and places it over her heart. She leans towards him and buries her face in his chest. "We have t-to go to h-him," she says thickly.

Tortured by the broken appearance of his wife, Nathan puts his arm around Haley's shoulders, and with a gentle tug, he leads her to the sofa at the far corner of the waiting room.

Dropping to a crouch beside her, he kisses her cheek and mutters into her skin, "I'm hounding their asses. I explained everything and we'll get home as soon as possible. I promise."

Her lips trembling, she nods repetitively and drops her face into her hands. The anguish she's desperately trying to escape makes her fold over. Every nerve in his body tingles with fury and fear at her quietness, and he rises to sit beside her. Her arms slip around his neck, her shoulders shuddering as she clings to him. Choking back a slew of bitter screams, Nathan curses the day that his son got hurt and he wasn't there to protect him.

* * *

><p>The fear smoulders and burns as they sit in the airport lounge, horrible thoughts of what could have happened to their son filling their minds. They are fresh, clean and in new clothes, the dirty ones in an airline tote bag. They leave Montana quietly, refusing hospital admission, with no time to say goodbye to anyone, and with three hundred dollars as a partial rebate from the airline.<p>

Nathan replays the conversation with his mother, of her saying that there was an accident and Jamie was hurt, that he was in a coma. He tells Haley of her refusal to get into details over the phone, asking them to come home as soon as they could before hanging up and leaving him screaming her name as the dial tone beeped in his ear. He tells her of that every single call he made to their family and friends in Tree Hill went unanswered or to voicemail, like an elaborate plot meant to heighten his madness and despair. He tells her of how he plans on shooting them all to the moon mercilessly when he lays eyes on them.

_Is he dying?_ is what they're both thinking but unwilling to say out loud, lest it be true. They tell each other everything but this time, this one time, it's okay to keep that despicable thought to themselves.

Armed with multiple bottles of sports drinks, they make their way to the first plane that will get them one step closer to knowing the full extent of the situation at home. They communicate without having to speak, a language they have mastered that's just between them.

As she misses clipping on her seat belt for the third time, Haley wonders if they'll soon run out of transportation means; she was in a train accident that still has an effect on her even when she catches a glimpse of a toy train. Nathan was in a bus accident that may not have affected him mentally, but _she_ gets hit by flashbacks when she sees a bus. Gloomy feelings engulf her of holding his hand for weeks on end at a hospital, begging him to wake up from his coma, watching their son break apart from all of it. Although overwhelmed with emotions that are sweeping over her trembling body, she buckles in. Today, she doesn't care if she has to take a magic carpet to Tree Hill but God help her, she's going home. She does not have the time to develop a fear of flying. That piercing desire and urgency to get home overshadows whatever lingering fear she has.

They sit tersely in their assigned seats, hands clasped together in comfort. With no direct flights to North Carolina, they've been booked on multiple airlines to get them home. It will take forever and a day, and between now and then, anything could happen.


	12. Chapter 12

The yellow cab brakes outside Tree Hill Memorial Hospital, following twelve hours of travel time, four flights, and three layovers six hours long.

From Montana to Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Charlotte and then Wilmington. Frayed nerves for companions, excruciating thoughts, bottles of water and Gatorade, and a mini bottle of Dewar's Scotch whisky for each of them. A very long trip for two parents who know nothing about the condition of their sick son.

"Sir, your cha—"

"Keep it!" Nathan yells to the cabbie, already running to the automatic doors.

Every mile was ridiculously painful, every second a reminder of where they were headed and what was waiting for them. Worsened by the fact that no one would take their calls.

They rush to the hospital directory mounted next to the front desk, their eyes scanning over it for directions to Pediatrics. The last time they were here was a very long time ago, when Haley was going for physiotherapy sessions.

The flicker of panic in her chest rises to an ember as her frantic gaze scouts for the right route. The words and numbers are swimming before her eyes and she can't seem to piece them together coherently. "I…I don't see it!"

Nathan grabs her hand and strides towards the elevators. "Fifth."

It takes thirty-two seconds for the elevator to get to the lobby, and another six for everyone to clear out.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" he spits, pacing the small space as it ascends.

"What exactly did your mom say?" She's lost track of the number of times she keeps asking the same thing.

He runs a hand through his hair, clutching a fistful of it. "She just told me that he's in a coma."

"Nothing else? About what happened?"

"Nothing. Not how long he's been like this, not about what happened. Jesus, are they hiding something horrible from us? I'm going to kill them for ignoring us. I will kill them all."

She shakes her head. "This is bad, Nathan. It's really, really bad. I can feel it."

After what seems like a ride to the ninety-ninth floor instead of the fifth, the soft chime of the elevator notifies them that it's stopped at their floor. Haley tears down the cheerfully-painted corridor before the doors are fully open.

"Where is he!?" she screams wildly, approaching the nurse's station.

The curly-haired nurse seated behind the desk, busy pecking away at her keyboard, looks up from the computer monitor. "Where is who?"

There's a shrill cry waiting to burst from her lips. "James Lucas Scott! Where is he?" she demands, her red eyes darting from side to side, as if looking for flashing neon lights indicating where they should go.

"Are you friends or family?" the nurse inquires, fingers resting on the edge of the keyboard.

A sudden urge to pounce on her and beat her to a pulp is alive in her. "He's my son," Haley barks. "I want to see him _now_."

The pink-uniformed nurse pushes back her chair and comes around the desk. "Miss, please calm down. Have a seat in the waiting room while I get the doctor."

"Are you _crazy!?_" Haley shrieks, the shrillness of it bouncing off the walls.

"Miss, you can't do tha—"

"I want to see my child!"

"Then please wait for—"

Nathan slams his hand down hard on the counter, making the nurse step back.

"Take us to his room," he says through clenched teeth, blue eyes hard as cold steel as he stares down at the nurse. "Now. And then get the damn doctor."

"Nathan?"

They all turn, finding Deb standing a few feet away, purple circles under her eyes.

"Deb!"

Haley rushes to her mother-in-law, engulfing her in a quick hug before pulling away. "Where is he? What happened? How is he?"

"What the hell is going on, Mom? Why isn't anyone taking our calls?"

Deb shakes her head, casting her slightly puffy eyes to the floor. "I'm so sorry…"

"Dear God," Haley whimpers in terror at her mother-in-law's stance. "My baby…"

"Mom," Nathan whispers, taking her hand. "Take us to him. Please," he begs.

She squeezes his hand and then takes hers back before turning away from them. "This way."

The young parents are afraid to ask her for details now that they've seen her, for fear of what they're about to see, for fear of what has happened to their son. Deb guides them wordlessly down the hospital corridors, and when they get to Intensive Care, their hands tighten in each other's. She finally stops by a partially open pale blue door near the emergency exit, and leaves them without a word.

As she walks away, Nathan and Haley stand mutely by the door, looking into room two-fourteen. At first it seems like they're in the wrong room; it's fairly dim, the lights are low, the shades are drawn, and the wan and motionless little form on the bed surrounded by medical equipment is hardly recognizable. The name plate on the door says otherwise. James Scott.

The small figure lying on the narrow hospital bed is a far cry from the vivacious son they know, a fragile version of their Jamie. Nathan is struck by how unbelievably frail and vulnerable he looks. His grey frame is supported by pillows, propped up at an angle so that he looks like he's semi-upright. A colourful bedspread is covering him up to his waist. His mouth is parted, and a thick plastic tube held in place by tape on the side of his lips disappears into his mouth.

Nathan walks towards the bed slowly, heart hammering as he approaches his son. There are oxygen tubes running out of his nostrils, and an IV line is stuck in each of his skinny, bare arms. Wires attached to his chest and the sensor on his forefinger are connected to a portable heart monitor, the soft rhythmic blipping of the machine permeating the room.

"Oh my God..."

Nathan's hands are unsteady as they roam over the child's body, trying to find an unrigged spot that he can touch. He's so small and every part of him seems to be hooked up to something.

"Daddy's here, Jame," he rasps shakily, brushing his fingers across his son's forehead with his violently trembling fingers. "I'm here…"

He bends over the rail of the bed to kiss Jamie's cool and pale forehead, touching his soft hair, catching a whiff of the faint baby lotion scent. He takes the tiny and cold hand and holds it in his own large one, bringing it to his lips. "Hi, son… I'm here…"

The tears that have filled his eyes flow as he sits on the edge of the bed, holding Jamie's hand against his mouth and crying as if his heart will literally break into unmendable pieces.

All Haley is seeing in her head is her son attached to machines, looking like a broken doll. Over and over again, like a movie scene on repeat mode.

To see him lying on that bed like that takes its toll. Blood roaring in her ears, extreme fear boiling in her veins, she falls apart. In mute terror, her body convulses and she slides down to the floor. Her moan fills the room as she covers her ears with shaking hands, trying not to hear the consistent beeping of the machine. Her baby is on life support.

The steady beeps and green spikes of the heart-rate monitor may mean that he is still alive, they should be giving her comfort that he's stable, but those devices still show that he's unconscious.

She moans again painfully, putting her hands over her face. Her chest feels heavy, like an elephant, a rhino and a whale are all seated on it, making her breathing come in sharp gasps. The room spins out of control. She feels sick.

"Haley."

She opens her eyes slowly and drops her hands away from her face, seeing her husband standing over her, his eyes red and swollen, his face tear-stained.

He gently takes her hand. "You have to see him, Hales."

"Oh, God…"

It's no wonder Deb refused to tell them anything. She allows him to lift her up off the floor, her eyes staring blankly ahead as he leads her to the bedside.

"Jesus…" Nathan croaks as he plops down on a chair beside the bed. "How could this…How did this…"

He leans his elbows on his knees, pressing his palms over his eyes, willing the tears thudding behind his lids to stop.

Breathing out heavily, Haley sits on the bed and looks down at her little boy. He looks so peaceful. Like he's asleep, yet he really isn't.

And then she breaks down completely and just bawls.

Crying savagely, she takes Jamie's hand, her whole body shivering as she caresses his skin along the white hospital band around his wrist. How did this happen? What exactly happened?

She just wants to scoop him up in her arms and tell him it will be alright. To tell him that she didn't mean to go away and leave him. To tell him that he's going to be better. To tell him to fight.

"Mama's here, baby," she cries. "Mommy and Daddy are here, okay?"

Her heart breaks in half, her life feels over and empty. Her uncontrollable cries breaking him apart, Nathan rises from the chair and takes her in his arms, sitting her on his lap as he leans back into the chair.

"I-I will j-just die if anything happens to h-him, Nathan..." she sobs on his shoulder, hugging him tightly. "I will d-die…"

In response to his wife's suffering, a wave of fear and helplessness overcomes him, and he is no longer able to resist the tears.


	13. Chapter 13

Under heavy lids, her eyes make out blurry surroundings. She wonders if she's dead, dead and awaiting judgment at the pearly gates for condemnation of all her wrongdoings.

The voices prick through her sleepy trance. It's not clear what they're saying but she can make out murmurs from very familiar voices. Unless everyone she knows is also at the pearly gates, it's unlikely that she's about to have a run-in with Saint Peter. And then there are the sounds of the beeping heart monitor and the hissing ventilator. Raging reminders of where she is.

She's reluctant to open her eyes, knowing what awaits her. They flutter open anyway, gradually, adjusting to the brightness.

She yawns faintly; her tongue is heavy and dry, like moisture has been sucked out of her mouth. She takes her time familiarizing herself with the room; the pale blue walls, the strip of rainbow colors that runs across the middle of the walls, the yellow and blue smiling starfish wall decorations, the brothers sitting in the chairs beneath the window. Not too many details but they're enough to make her want to scream.

After taking a deep breath, she wets her mouth as she moves her head slowly to look across the room.

"They would have been fools if they'd said no to you," she hears Nathan say, his face to the window.

From her vantage point, it looks like afternoon, the sun bright and hot as it bathes the room in its intensity. She grimaces silently against the offending brightness.

Lucas is nodding, fidgeting in his seat as he stretches out his leg. A stark white bandage on his right foot is visible against the black flip flop.

"What happened to your foot?"

The brothers turn to her. She moves her body to a sitting position on the cot, rubbing her eyes out of sleep.

"Hi," Nathan greets her with a slight smile. "How do you feel?"

She can't remember finding her way to the cot. She can't remember falling asleep, either. "Less than okay. You?"

"Same."

His eyes leave hers for a moment to take a fleeting look at the bed. That fear hammers riotously in her heart. She blinks twice, pushing away the sudden wetness in her eyes.

"Hey, Luke. What happened to your foot?" she asks her friend again.

Lucas gives her a washed-out smile before his gaze drops to the floor, as though ashamed. "Broken glass," he mumbles.

She swings her feet to the floor, running her hands through her hair to shake it out. "Are you okay?"

At that moment, Nathan stands, clearing his throat. "I'm just going to get some coffee."

With that said, he makes a rather hasty retreat out of the room. Haley makes her way slowly to the vacant chair after using the bathroom, her hands firmly at her sides, afraid of brushing or bumping into the bed.

When she leans her head on Luke's shoulder, he immediately seems to flinch. Confused, she lifts her eyes to look at him. "What's wrong?"

He's staring ahead, his face stony, his jaw popping in and out. "Nothing."

Sighing heavily, she takes his hand. He flinches again at her touch and she pulls her hand away. Clearly, something's up. "Lucas…"

He seems to tense further at her flat tone, his cold manner uncharacteristic of him. He's treating her like he does Dan. Haley watches him closely, neither of them blinking until his eyes draw shut. And then he quietly says, "I'm sorry."

He's really confusing her. They didn't fight before she left for him to apologize. "For what?"

At that, he turns his face, locking gazes with her. Then his eyes move away from hers to the bed, and then back to hers again. Although seated, her knees feel weak. He wants to tell her something.

Instead of maintaining eye contact, her gaze falls to the end of the bed. She can make out the outline of Jamie's feet underneath the covers. She's terrified to look at him again, to see the extent of his injuries in daylight.

"What…what time is it?"

The words can barely make it past her lumpy throat. At her question, Luke's eyes flick over her face before falling to the floor yet again. With a look at his watch, he says, "Twelve twenty-five."

Haley is not sure what time it was they arrived at the hospital last night but she must have slept for a while.

She lifts a trembling clammy hand to her brow. Her head hurts, a throb of agony so excruciating that no amount of pills will make better. "What happened, Lucas?"

He makes no answer for some time, making Haley feel a hint of annoyance. His silences over the years at moments like this have always annoyed her, and more than once she has been tempted to give him a solid punch to get him talking.

"I should have been watching him," he finally says huskily before she can growl at him. "I didn't check on him and then—"

She holds her breath. He lets out a shallow sigh before turning to look at her dead on. Everything about his face is so aggressive that a cold chill creeps through her.

"He wanted to play on the beach. I said yes but I didn't pay enough attention, and the next thing I knew, there was a scream…"

She recoils, like he just struck her with a fist. "What?"

She waits impatiently for his answer. The wave of horror and confusion crashes around her as she looks at him with rapt attention.

"We went to the beach and he was playing by the shore. I didn't look in on him for a few seconds and…H-he was in the water and the lifeguard…"

He seems defeated as his head drops forward. She absorbs it all like pounding blows.

"You let him go into the water alone?"

"He was playing close to the water."

Her teeth are chattering slightly. "He's four years old, Lucas."

"I know…"

"For God's sake, you know he can't swim well even in a damn pool. He uses _floaties_," she says in an icy voice through gritted teeth, her quaking hand reaching to grab his arm.

"I-I'm so sorry, Haley…"

The words leave her mouth before she can stop them. "You didn't take care of him for me. I asked you to—"

When he lifts his head, his eyes are shining with tears, his face etched in sorrow and grief. She wants to crumble.

"I'm so, so sorry. He was sad because he missed you and I…I just wanted him to play with the other kids," Luke says pleadingly, his voice trembling.

She lets out an overburdened breath, a myriad of emotions smouldering in her eyes. Regret. Terror. Fear.

The anger she has towards him melts away into alarm and sadness. She has no right to be angry with him. She's the one who's sorry. He was being there for Jamie, trying to make him forget that they were missing, but something awful happened that changed everything.

"The lifeguards couldn't detect a heartbeat for a minute," he says in a monotone.

Her heart drops to her belly, where it starts beating loudly and painfully as her body begins to burn. Goosebumps rise, and she can feel her lungs constricting as if stashed in a vacuum.

"And then…and then his heart was beating. But he didn't wake up. He never woke up…"

She listens as his words ebb and flow around them, hanging around them over the sounds of the machines. _Heartbeat…a minute…_

Her grip on his arm is so tight that her fingers have paled, but Lucas can barely feel it when the guilt and the grief are like an added layer on his skin. "Things…things happen, Lucas."

She wants to say more, like how much she knows he loves Jamie to put him in harm's way. She can only muster a few words at a time. "Bad things happen, Luke. It wasn't your fault."

Should she be blaming him more? Should she be lunging herself at him in fury, clawing his eyes out for being careless with her son?

She can't. It wasn't his fault. Maybe it's her fault for going away in the first place. Maybe it's her fault for not being a good enough mother that she ignored that niggling feeling that had been lingering around before leaving for Montana. Maybe it's her fault…

But it doesn't matter. Playing the blame game won't accomplish anything. Something bad happened. Something horrific happened to Jamie and all of them feel powerless for not having the ability to correct it.

"Bad things happen," she repeats, feeling stronger, braver.

"I could have prevented it," he insists, tugging his hand loose, that hard edge still in his voice. "What kind of person doesn't watch over a chi—"

To hide his damp eyes, Lucas drops his head forward. He rests his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his spiky blonde hair. "If…if he d—"

Haley's clasp on his arm tightens, fingernails digging into his skin. "No. Don't you fucking saying it, Lucas Scott," she says sternly, the words passing her lips like currents of electricity snapping away. "You _cannot_ say things like that about my son. He's going to be fine, you hear me?"

Still bent over, he nods some. "I'm just…I'm so sorry, Hales. I'm so, so sorry…"

And then he's crying. In all the years they've been friends, she has seen him cry twice: in elementary school after a group of out of town kids threw him in the pool when he couldn't swim after taunting him repeatedly for a week, and in high school when he saw her after her supposed death.

Her own eyes swimming with tears, Haley puts her arms around him in a comforting embrace, hugging him sideways, her damp cheek resting on his stiff back as she strokes his arm. "I-I know you are, Luke. I'm sorry, too…"

* * *

><p>They're holding hands, sitting close and murmuring inaudibly when Nathan reappears. He lets out an innocuous sigh of relief, comforted to see that things are alright between them.<p>

When they notice him, they look up simultaneously, eyes and noses slightly reddened and puffy. Haley gives him an assuring smile before her eyes fall to his hands. He's holding a red apple and a sandwich in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other and a bottle of water under his arm.

"I got you something to eat."

"A lot of something," she smiles weakly.

"I'm a supporter of balanced meals."

Lucas stands, leaving a kiss on Haley's cheek. "I'll see you in a while, okay?"

She pats his hand. "Yeah. Sure."

He glances down at Jamie, rubbing his nephew's small arm before limping slightly towards the door. The men nod at each other, Nathan smiling at his big brother gratefully, and then Luke is gone.

Haley reaches for Nathan as soon as he sits, her lips claiming his for a moment in a kiss.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks, searching her eyes.

She gives him another kiss. "Okay enough. You?"

"Yeah," he replies vaguely.

His dreams were haunted by intense images of Jamie drowning, and each time, he was unable to save him. They were so frightening that he left the cot to take the chair beside the bed, his hand holding Jamie's as he dozed off for a few more hours.

"Nathan, I didn't say thank you for getting us out of that…place."

He nods. He would do anything for her. She chews on the inside of her bottom lip, then offers up a broken smile. "I-I just wanted to say thank you."

He places a kiss on her lips. "You're welcome. Now, eat something."

Shaking her head, her gaze lowers as he sets the apple and sandwich on her lap, his hand holding out the coffee to her. "I can't."

"You have to. You need to. You haven't eaten well in days, Hales."

"Na—"

He shakes his head. "Please, Hales," he chides. "You're dehydrated, remember? If you don't—"

He breaks off, taking a sideways glance at the bed. "I need you here with me, okay?"

"Have you eaten?" she counters.

As much as he tried, he couldn't eat. Every bite tasted like cardboard, his thoughts distracted by the fact that his son was lying comatose upstairs. "Yes. Your turn."

She smiles, raising the apple to her lips and biting off a small piece. The cool sweetness of it she usually enjoys is non-existent; it feels bland as it fills her mouth.

With an approving sigh, Nathan places the water bottle on the floor and then leans back in his chair. He takes a drink from the cup of coffee, the strong taste of the black brew gliding down his throat. His eyes drift to Jamie's face, so heartbreakingly sweet and innocent that he almost spews out the liquid in his mouth. Instead, he roils it around until it turns lukewarm, and swallows it down with a feeling of disgust.

He hates being here. He hates that Jamie is here. He hates everything about right now. He takes another long swig of the piping hot coffee, uncaring whether it burns his throat. No amount of physical pain can measure up to the emotional and mental aching. How he would love to find a bar, park himself on a stool, and ask for a double of everything.

His jaw clenches tight as the memories surface of his clash with potential alcoholism. They were juniors in college when he started experiencing the stress and worry of school and basketball, and a grand fear of failure. It weighed so heavily on him that he wasn't able to handle it, so he began drinking to ease some of the stress.

The parties he went to had plenty of alcohol and drugs; sometimes he'd smoke pot, but the drugs were never more important than the booze. He drank more than he did back in high school when Haley went on tour and left him in the cold. He wasn't bingeing, but he was drinking more than usual, nursing more hangovers than usual, and slurring through conversations with Haley when he got home. He loathed himself for withdrawing from her, his best friend, the woman he told anything without panicking about condemnation.

She became angry and resentful. His drinking worsened with the guilt, shame and self-loathing. The pattern continued, until she called him out. She was always the one to slap sense into him, even when she didn't realize it.

The night it changed, she exposed him. She treated him with contempt. Even drunk, he felt the verbal punches when she told him that she hated him. Simultaneously, she accused him of cheating on her.

She was so mad that she walked off in the middle of the conversation and marched into Jamie's room. Knowing that she didn't want to be in the same bed with him, either, he took the couch. He made up the sofa bed after Jamie was asleep and put it back to rights before Jamie woke up. For those days they didn't speak, he vowed to get his head out of his ass. On the fifth day of their uncommunicative warfare, a Saturday, she drove to Chapel Hill with Jamie to visit Peyton. It wasn't abnormal, but what was abnormal was the fear that confronted him of her never coming back. The fear of being separated from her, divorced, the fear of not seeing Jamie every day, overwhelmed him. The fear of losing them was so traumatic that it may have tipped some kind of panic attack. It sobered him damn well up; he was risking going down an alcoholic's path, and with a wife and child to boot, his life was going to be in crisis.

They came home, he took care of Jamie's bedtime, and while she was in the shower, he joined her. There was a lot he wanted to tell her, that he was sorry for being the kind of man to heap pain on her that she should be protected from, that he would never do that to her again. He said the one thing he most needed to say, that even drinking as much as he did, he had never touched another woman.

Since then, any time he thought of having more than one beer, he backed off; he was still in a poor state about how much alcohol he could handle. Then he fucked up the night Lucas came to visit after he was discharged from the hospital.

The emotions were a tad too much and he drank to excess, five of the eleven beers in the pack. Two beers down, Luke warned him about taking more, but again, he said that he was fine. Just this once, he told himself, he needed some time off.

He could blame the depression for bringing him out of the hiatus, but his stupidity took full credit. Once again, Haley called him out on his shit. She was livid that he was thoughtless, that he was reliving history. He suffered one hell of a hangover the next morning, so sick that he bowed before the porcelain god, another swift kick in the ass. That he didn't seriously consider the possibility of death in drinking while medicated was an indication to how much of an indiscriminate dependence he had on alcohol. If he was to avoid any more relapses, he needed to deal with his recovery accordingly.

Therapy was valuable. It helped him review the particulars of his fears of failure, what was happening to him during recovery, and deal well with the clutter in his head. He was reluctant to explore counselling, but he loved his wife and their son too much to lose control around them.

He rakes a hand through his hair, lightly pressing his fingertips over the raised surgical scar on his scalp. They all have so many scars, some seen and unseen, and it's as mysterious as it is aggravating. Someone has a fucked up sense of humour about their lives.

"I hope he can hear us," Haley whispers, resting into him.

Instinctively, his arm is around her shoulders and his lips are on her temple. Little by little, he takes sips of the coffee until the last bitter dreg, all the while his eyes trained on Jamie's bird-like chest as it rises and falls. His own chest rises and falls along with the rhythmic motion of Jamie's, as though willing his breathing to his son. Shutting his eyes, he grits his teeth against the stinging behind his lids.

Haley breaks the silence. There's only so much of the machines she can take.

"I'm really scared, Nathan," she says, her voice a sunken whisper, leaning over to take Jamie's small hand, her thumb rubbing along his tiny fingers. "I'm so scared…"

* * *

><p>Lucas steps off the elevator as if in a trance, making his way slowly down to the chapel with languid steps. The corridors seem endlessly long, and he's unsure what made him decide to make this stop.<p>

He is not a practicing anything, and neither is he a spiritual or religious man. He hasn't been to a church in ages. The Tree Hill weddings he's attended have been outdoor garden weddings that required minimal interaction with clerics on his part. But today, he needs divine intervention. Or penance. It's a selfish move coming down here to pray, because he couldn't live with himself if something happened to Jamie.

For a moment, he's reluctant to walk in. There's a hint of disconcerting fear on his unworthiness to even dare utter a prayer. It fades as he peeks into the chapel, not much larger than the average living room.

There are pews on each side of the aisle. A blonde-haired woman sits alone in the middle of the second pew, her head bent over. A crucifix is inscribed into the blue, green and amber stained-glass window, colourful light streaming into the small room. Lit and unlit white candles are laid out at the altar below a suspended, sizeable crucifix, and two thick worn black Bibles rest to the side of the altar.

The door creaks slightly when he pushes past it, and the blonde turns around. Her tired eyes relax and her flat mouth twists into a weak smile. "Hi."

Lucas shuffles towards her, dropping down in the corner of the pew. "Hi."

There's a long stretch of silence, neither of them speaking as they lose themselves in their thoughts. Lucas doesn't know whether to kneel where he is, or light a candle before kneeling. He opts to bow his head, forehead touching the back of the pew in front of him, fingers clasped together. He tries to find the right words to offer. Silently, in few words, he proceeds to say a prayer that does not include ultimatums or deals.

Slinking back into the pew, he heaves out an inaudible sigh. Silence follows. Deb moves from her spot to sit beside him. "Have you been up yet?"

"Yeah. Thought I'd pass by here before I left."

Their voices seem loud in the quiet chapel, and she lowers hers to a whisper. "Are they awake?"

He nods, staring straight ahead at a flickering candle. "I wish…I wish I could go back to that day. I keep wishing that I'd done everything differently. I could have been closer to the shore and—"

Deb studies him silently and then she gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "What's happened has happened, and I don't think anyone is pointing fingers at you. I know I don't. There's not much we can do but wait, Lucas. "

After his talks with his brother and sister-in-law, although they've assured him that it's not his fault, it still galls that he was there. He should have been watching Jamie more closely. Guilt is such a messy feeling that if not weeded out, it can easily drive anyone insane. He's bordering on it. Other than obsessing and dissecting every detail about that afternoon at the beach, replaying every moment of the day, waiting is the other alternative.

"If you had seen the way she looked at me, Deb…Christ…" he says hoarsely. "For that moment, I was sure that nothing would ever be the same with us." He gives a dry sarcastic laugh. "I mean, how could they be when I let her son drown?"

"You didn't let anything happen to him. Did she ask you to leave?"

"No."

"Then things aren't going to go the way you imagine."

He gives her a quick smile, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I have to get to the airport."

Deb gives him a questioning look.

"Brooke's flying in," he explains. "Peyton can't do it."

"What about Mouth? I thought they were dating?"

Lucas shrugs. "It's one of those he said-she said kind of arguments they're becoming famous for. They'll work it out eventually."

"I'm sure," she says.

He stands, trudging down the short aisle. Turning on his heel with his hand on the door, he tells her softly, "Thanks, Deb."

* * *

><p>In the hush of the room, as they confer in quiet tones with each other, the doctor suddenly appears. The tension in the room becomes a solid matter. They avoided asking Lucas about Jamie's prognosis, as if pushing it for later would make the situation less real. Short of running out the door or blocking their ears like children, it's inevitable hearing what is wrong with their son.<p>

The doctor doesn't acknowledge them. In his pristine white coat and stethoscope, the man picks up the clipboard dangling off the end of Jamie's bed. He is middle-aged, heavy-set and very tall, his presence making the room seem smaller. There is a slight paunch around his middle and his salt and pepper beard has been trimmed neatly. Round gold-rimmed glasses are resting on the bridge of the broad nose of his pleasant-looking face, and his thick, greying brown hair is cut just above his ears.

For what seems like hours, he flips pages, reading through and scribbling on the clipboard, his face blasé and devoid of alarming emotion.

"Are you his parents?" he asks in a gentle voice, scrawling across the page.

"Yes," Nathan answers.

The doctor eyes them momentarily before looking back at the clipboard and muttering under his breath. Flexing her fingers, Haley wonders what that _hmm_ means. That they're too young to handle the dreaded news of Jamie's diagnosis?

Snapping the clipboard shut and perching it back on the bed, he studies them for a while before saying, "I'm Dr. Harris, the pediatric trauma specialist."

His mahogany-coloured eyes behind the lenses are warm, not icy and unsympathetic as Haley expected.

"Your son was brought in following rescue when the tide had carried him a short distance from the shore. He was submerged underwater for a time, resulting in cardiac arrest and hypothermia. Successful resuscitation was achieved after a minute."

He pauses, jamming his big hands into the pockets of his coat. "A minute may not seem severe but lack of blood flow to a drowning victim can be detrimental to their survival. They could develop pulmonary complications and neurological damage."

"Brain damage?" Haley wheezes. Was it just a year ago that she was listening to a doctor tell her about Nathan being at risk of brain damage? And now Jamie?

Dr. Harris wiggles his thumbs over his pockets. "We can't tell the extent of it until he wakes up. As you can see, he's on life support but we have detected brain activity."

Before either of them can remark, Dr. Harris continues, "Brain activity does not necessarily mean that he will come out of this like he was."

"But he's going to wake up?" Nathan hopefully asks, perched on the edge of his seat, his elbows on the bed.

"That depends," the doctor answers.

"On what?" Haley prods, quite uneasy about what he will say.

"Your willingness to take a risk."

She cringes on the inside. A risk on Jamie's wellbeing? "What risk?"

"Therapeutic hypothermia," he responds.

At their confused looks, he explains, "It's the deliberate icing of a patient to reinstate them to their previous normal health."

The parents exchange a glance at the mention of "icing."

"Is it a new procedure?" Nathan asks, worried about agreeing to any trial treatment.

The doctor shakes his head. "Hypothermia therapy is not new. Its use can be dated as far back as Greek physician Hippocrates. It has been quite beneficial for patients of cardiac arrest and stroke, and fevers associated with neurological traumas."

His face grows with deep thoughtfulness, his eyes turned to a distant spot high up on the wall as he mulls over his speech.

"Dr. Harris?" Haley calls out softly.

The faraway look in the doctor's eyes is gone as he focuses back on them. "Oh, yes. Therapeutic hypothermia is nowadays proving to be quite the unique state-of-the-art procedure. It's often induced to reduce any negative cerebral and neurological effects, and it has shown to decrease mortality rate in cardiac arrest patients. It's still a clinical trial to drowning victims, though, especially to the pediatric patients."

Nathan takes Jamie's hand in both of his, needing to touch him as the doctor lays it out. "How does it work?"

"Unlike two hundred years ago, modern medicine does not rely on piling snow on a patient to lower his temperature. We will use external and internal cooling treatments like cooling blankets and cold IV fluids. Combining these two treatments will ensure that all of the body's surface areas are accommodated, which will significantly reduce body temperature and improve oxygen supply."

Haley gapes at him in utter bewilderment. "You…you're going to…freeze him?"

Dr. Harris smiles at her. "Don't think of it in terms of ice and liquid water. The average normal body temperature is thirty-seven degrees Celsius. We will decrease your son's—"

"Jamie. His name is Jamie," Nathan says firmly.

The doctor pulls at his ear. "Yes. Jamie. TH will require decreasing Jamie's temperature by five degrees, and monitoring his temperature every couple of hours for at least thirty-six hours. Once the treatment is over, we will rewarm him gradually to normal body temperature, and then wait for him to wake up."

Already delirious with a good panic at everything he's just told them, Haley gnaws nervously on her thumbnail. "What are the risks?"

"Hemorrhaging, extreme shivering, infections. Please understand that like any medical procedure, TH has its side effects. But it has also shown success."

With an inward sigh, Nathan rubs Jamie's hand tenderly. "Is there an alternative treatment? One less…risky?"

"The only other option is to just wait for hi—Jamie to wake up on his own. Coming out of the coma on his own means that there's a high chance he will have brain damage and develop other disabilities. From the brain damage, you would be taking home an infant instead of a four-year-old."

"Jesus," Nathan swears under his breath, his mind ringing with the doctor's eerie words. Disabilities? Brain damage?

Readjusting his glasses, Dr. Harris clears his throat before moving to Jamie's bedside. "A day has passed and I highly advise that you give us an answer as soon as possible so that we can begin preparations for the treatment."

He plucks out a small flashlight from the pocket of his coat, prying Jamie's sealed eyelids open and peering into them. Nervously, the parents study him as he shines the beam of light back and forth in Jamie's motionless eyes while muttering to himself. Nathan feels ill when he glimpses the whites of Jamie's eyes. It hits him to his soul just how badly he wants to flee from the room and not have to face the pain associated with everything that's happening to Jamie.

"I cannot detect any reaction," Haley hears the doctor say, more to himself than to them.

She wants to hide away in a closet, or under a pile of blankets, until this is over. She may have been strong enough to see Jamie in pain with appendicitis, or visit Nathan every day for almost three months when he was in a coma, but not this time. This time, there's a high chance that she may be committed from having a psychotic breakdown, unable to take watching her son be frozen. She thinks that she ought to be strong enough by now to bear all these traumas coming their way but she really isn't. She's not that brave. It feels like some horrid dream. A truly horrible dream.

_Brain damage. _He's just a little boy. She wants to write a letter to someone; a lengthy letter detailing every wonderful thing about Jamie, pleading for his life.

The burning sensation behind her eyes is a sign that she's on the verge of crying uncontrollably, but not in front of this stranger. The Messenger.

The gentle pressure of Nathan's fingers on her jaw brings her crashing back to reality. The doctor is gone. She closes her eyes, leaning into the touch of Nathan's hand. The soothing stroke of his fingers makes her whimper. Giving in to her grief, the tears come harder as she falls into his arms.

He caresses her back. She hears the loud beating of his heart, so loud and fast that it makes her want to scream. She cries for him, she cries for Jamie, and she cries for herself. The heaving sobs sting her eyes and her face. The stinging tears slip down her cheeks as a white-hot pain sears her throat.

"You know what else sucks?" she chokes out.

He kisses the top of her head. "What?" he asks huskily.

"I – I c-can't hold him. Oh, God..."

Her voice trails off as she pulls away from him. "I j-just want to hold him…"

Her shoulders are shaking as she holds a hand over her mouth and struggles to stand from the chair. Eventually, she manages. She fumbles into the bathroom, locks the door behind her and slides to the floor. The hot tears persist their course down her cheeks.

She doesn't know how long she's been slouched down on the floor with her crying jag. Lifting her face, she presses the heels of her hands to her eyes to wipe away the remaining tears. She grips the edge of the bathroom counter with stiffening fingers, lifts herself to her feet and looks into the mirror. She's a blotchy mess; her eyes are red and swollen, her nose, lips and cheeks are puffy and tinged with pink, and her hair is standing out like she's been through a sandstorm.

She splashes cool water on her hot face and rinses her mouth to repair herself. Feeling marginally better, she takes a deep breath before pulling the door open. "Nathan, I think I want—"

Her words fall away, fingers stilling in an attempt at combing out her tangled hair. Nathan smiles vaguely from his chair when he sees her. Her hand drops to her side as her eyes soak it in.

In a weak rasp, she croaks, "Wha…what's going on?"

He smiles again, looking down at Jamie. "I asked the nurse if it was possible and..." He raises his eyes back to her.

Haley slowly walks up to him, kissing his chin sweetly and casting her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispers into his shoulder, holding the gathering tears in check. It never ceases to amaze her just how good he is at making her feel better.

Continuing to hold her closely, he tells her that it will be alright. He pulls her away gently, and forehead against forehead, he says, "Get in."

Haley nods silently, folding herself carefully onto the bed and curling beside her son in the empty space that wasn't there before. Leaning over, she presses her lips to his soft cheek. "Hi, baby, it's me. It's Mama."

She tucks her arm underneath her head on the thinned pillow, looking on at her greatest treasure. "Your daddy's here, too, but we can't all fit here. He misses you."

Lovingly, she traces his face, brow, cheeks and chin with her fingertips. Usually, he would respond to her touch by turning to face her or stirring in his sleep. The aching pain of the reminder burns her throat.

"Is…is it selfish of me to want to go ahead with the treatment even though it's not a guarantee?"

Her husband, his thoughts having been on the same since the doctor left, simply shakes his head. "If we say yes, are we agreeing to do it because we don't want Jamie to be dis—"

He gives out a heavy sigh. "Or are we agreeing to do it because it's the best option there is?"

"I don't know," she replies quietly, her watery eyes scanning Jamie's face. "But I think we should try it. It's better than doing nothing. They've had success with it. Jamie will be another success."

Settled on the other side of the bed in a chair, Nathan nods while idly stroking Jamie's hand. He quietly watches as she talks and sings softly to Jamie. She then looks up at him wearily before saying, "I want my child back, Nathan."

* * *

><p>"When can you start?" Nathan asks nervously, his voice low and deep, thoughts about the theoretical description of the procedure whittling through his mind.<p>

"We need time to prepare the cooling equipment," Dr. Harris responds. "I suggest you go home and rest tonight. Tomorrow will be a long day."

He stands there for a moment, shoots them a sympathetic smile and then leaves the room.

Nathan gives up staring at the sterile floor long after the doctor has left. "I'm going to get some coffee. You want anything?"

"Um, can you grab me a wet towel from the bathroom?"

She glances down at Jamie, certain that the sheen of sweat on his forehead is not imaginary on her part.

"Was your mom standing outside at some point?" she asks him as he retreats into the bathroom.

"Yeah. She must be around here somewhere."

"Please ask her to come in. I don't want her to think that we're not allowing visitors." She looks at Jamie sorrowfully, her fingers combing gently through his hair. "Jamie would want to hear her voice."

"Is he sweating?"

"A little bit. Do you think it's wrong of us to leave him tonight?"

"You're not abandoning him, Hales. We can just freshen up, grab some of Jamie's things and then come back."

Standing by the bathroom door, Nathan's eyes burn seeing the unconscious form of their son and the desolation written on Haley's face. Her gaze drifts over to him and his heart about melts.

"Nathan?" She looks at him inquisitively. His face is pinched in agony. "Honey?"

Sobering, Nathan crosses the room, holding out the neatly folded wet washcloth to her.

"Thank you," she tells him, not oblivious to his distress. "I want to stay for a while but we can leave later. Is that okay?"

Heart hammering away in his chest, he leans over the bed and brushes a light kiss on Jamie's forehead. "Yeah. Of course."

He touches her cheek tenderly. "I won't be long."

After he's out the door, Haley begins to delicately wipe Jamie's clammy face. She murmurs to him words of love and comfort, hoping to talk him out of the coma.

"It's going to be alright, baby," she says in just above a whisper. "Everything will be alright. The doctor said that the treatment is going to help you."

He looks too peaceful to be comatose.

"It's not Dr. Emily but I promise that he's going to take really good care of you, okay?"

She closes her misty eyes at the knowledge of tomorrow's hypothermic treatment, a shiver of dread snaking down her spine. Softly singing the song he's come to name Big Moon, Haley sinks back onto the bed after rinsing the cloth to dab at the dampness on his neck.

"I – I wish I could see you smile, Jame. I miss you very much, you know that? When you wake up, we—"

There's a sharp gasp from the doorway. Haley slowly turns around, thinking it's Deb or Peyton, but there stands one of the last people she expected to see.

"Brooke?"

To Haley, it seems like she's in an alternate universe. Brooke is here? Brooke, whom she hasn't seen or heard from in months. She looks the same, yet different; fair complexion, turn-up nose with a smattering of freckles, thin lips that suit her narrow face. Her dark brown hair is now a chin-length straight bob, the face-framing slick cut making her look more mature.

Seeming to be in shock, her usually clear and alert hazel eyes are enormous, her face is pale, and her mouth is involuntarily slightly open. She holds quaking fingers to her mouth as she stands there looking at Jamie's little body that has tubes and wires jutting out of it.

Haley drapes the cool rag over Jamie's forehead and moves towards Brooke. Her friend is uncomprehending even as Haley puts her arms around her in a hug and leads her to the cot. She pushes her down gently to sit, rubbing her back soothingly to revive her.

"Hi, Brooke."

Brooke presses her lips together as she turns to Haley, her eyes wide and dazed. Dark circles press beneath her eyes, turning the skin under her eyes a distinct grey colour.

"What…what happened to him?" she asks in a stunned whisper.

By the time Haley's done explaining, Brooke is huddled on the cot, so horrified that she bursts into tears.

"It's okay," Haley says gently, patting Brooke's hand. "The doctor said that this is an effective procedure."

She wants to believe it as much as she wants Brooke to believe it. More than, even.

Brooke shakes her head sadly. "He…he's a kid," she sobs.

Haley debates giving in to her own heartache but she is determined not to cry along with her friend. Even though he's in a coma, Jamie could be aware of what is going on and she doesn't want to increase his distress. Agitated, she turns away from Brooke to avoid the temptation, opting to calm her down by patting and rubbing her hand.

"I'm so s-sorry, Haley," Brooke cries.

Haley pats Brooke's hand repeatedly, fearful that kind words of sympathy are some sort of admission that Jamie will never recover.

The deep wracking torrent of tears eventually cease, reducing Brooke to a whimpering state.

"Dr. Harris said that it's had good results with children, even newborns," soothes Haley.

"It…it has?" Brooke asks, lips trembling.

Despite her boldness, Brooke also has a delicate and fragile quality about her that makes her hurt easily and emotionally vulnerable. Her compassion is magnanimous.

"It has," Haley confirms with a weak smile. "But I really don't want to think about it right now. How about you tell me what you've been up to in New York?"

Brooke's chin quivers and then she's sobbing once again, hiding her face in her hands as she weeps at length.

* * *

><p>"You hate your job?"<p>

"I really do. At least, presently I do," Brooke explains, leaning her head back on the wall.

They're seated in the hallway right outside Jamie's room, speaking in hushed tones. The characteristic reek of hospital bleach and disinfectant assails their noses.

"I don't know how it started but eventually, I hated everything about the job and New York. The traveling, the long hours, the lack of sleep. I've been so stressed and depressed, Haley."

Turning to her friend, Brooke says unhappily, "The last time I saw Jamie was at your wedding. For two hours because I had to fly out to a fashion show out of the country. I come home to see my friends after a year and I only see them for a couple of hours."

"What do you want to do, then?" Haley asks hesitantly. Brooke loves fashion and to see her passion dissolve like this is a bit unsettling.

"I want a break," she sighs. "A long break to figure out what it is I want."

"School, maybe?" Haley suggests, stretching her legs out.

"Maybe. I'm just too frustrated by work right now."

"Does your boss know that you're taking the time off?"

Brooke shrugs. "The company won't crumble without me. I honestly don't care if they fire me. And you know what the worst about it is?" she groans, looking up at the bright fluorescent light.

"What?"

"I've taken it out on Marvin."

It takes Haley a moment to connect Marvin with Mouth.

"I get so fed up that I take it out on him. We've only met twice in the last six months and it's all because I get mean about things that have nothing to do with him. We're not even talking right now."

"If you explain, he'll understand."

Brooke looks at her sideways, wetness still clinging to her lashes. "After more than a month of silence?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Haley nudges her shoulder gently. "Then it's a good thing you're home to do it face-to-face."

"I suppose," she sighs. "How about you? How are you? How's everything? Sorry for making this all about me."

"Don't be." Haley draws her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them before letting her head fall between her knees. "Aside from finding my son in a coma after being stuck in the wilderness for days, I'm just dandy."

"Wilderness? Were you on walkabout or something?"

She turns her head to the side to look at Brooke, cheek resting on knee. "No. The plane crash."

"What plane crash?"

Brooke is clearly unaware of what she is talking about.

"Nathan and I had a bit of a holiday in the mountains of Montana after the plane we were on went berserk."

A look of disbelief has settled over Brooke's face. "What? Peyton didn't tell me anything about a plane crash! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Brooke quizzes her, her eyes running up and down Haley's body. "Are you sick? Oh my God, do you have a concussion? Internal bleeding?"

"No, I'm fine," she says quickly. "We're okay."

Brooke looks relieved. "Oh, that's great. Wait, is that why there are news people down there? To interview you and all that?"

"Down where?"

"At the parking lot. I thought someone famous had di—"

She falters, throwing Haley an apologetic grimace. "I'm so sorry."

"No. It's okay." Haley stifles a moan, laying her forehead back on her knees. "If they're waiting, it will be a mess getting out of here."

"You can use the back. I've seen it on TV."

Haley smiles. "Not the fire exit?"

"It's a hospital, Haley, not a bar. You can't use emergency exits in hospitals," Brooke says seriously.

"The back entrance it is," she chuckles softly.

* * *

><p>Haley looks over her shoulder at Peyton, Brooke and Lucas as they are seated around Jamie's bed.<p>

"Don't worry, Hales. We'll call you before we leave," Peyton says.

The two friends haven't had a chance for a chat, just a few words along the lines of hello, I'm sorry and thanks for coming. She really wants to talk to her best girl friend.

"And if anything happens, right?"

The curly-haired blonde nods. "I promise. Now go before you're followed home."

Nathan gives them a grateful half-grin as he takes Haley's hand, leading her down the hallway towards the stairs. The Pediatric Unit is just five floors up, and it doesn't take them long to trudge down the stairs.

"Are they still out there?" Nathan asks of the press as they slump back in the back seat of Allan's SUV.

"Yes," Allan replies, inching the car slowly forward in the narrow passage between the hospital and the opposite empty lot. A couple of nurses on a smoking break step back to give the car room, throwing speculative glances on who its occupants could be.

"What about at the house?" Haley asks wearily, leaning back against the headrest.

Her eyes involuntarily close as the steady repetitive motion of the gliding car washes over her. She's lost count of the number of times she's drifted in and out of sleep today, and she's exhausted.

"Not anymore," Deb says, pressing the power button to lower the tinted window some.

In hopes that in the distance between town and the house she'll find some peace in sleep, Haley tries to push away the reality of Jamie hurt and in a coma in the PICU. Her heart sickens as she visualizes the hypothermic treatment, mind tumbling with tormenting thoughts of bags of ice and a frozen Jamie. Her eyes flutter open and her gaze slowly turns to Nathan.

Without speaking, she reaches for his hand. He gives hers a reassuring squeeze in understanding. The gesture is not lost on her and she brings his hand to her lips for a kiss. She grips it tightly where their joined hands rest between them all the way home.

Holding onto the banister so as not to keel over backwards from exhaustion, Haley starts the slow walk up the stairs. The framed pictures are a hazy blur, but she's highly aware of them; pictures capturing past frozen moments of happy times, wide grins and flushed faces.

She walks down the hallway, her gaze focused on nowhere else but their bedroom door. Ignoring that inward sigh when she catches a flash of green from the corner of her eye before turning to their room, she heads straight for the shower.

After scrubbing down from hair to toe, she's so tired that she collapses onto the floor of the shower, the tiles cool against her skin despite the hot water. Billows of steam rise as the jets of water pulse down her body, creating a gloriously comforting cocoon around her. Drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, she recalls something about a day around winter break last year…

She was so tired that day that she just collapsed on the couch. Jamie woke her up after what felt like a second of sleep, eager to show her something. Despite her protests, he was adamant about her watching him. His boisterous tone made her sit up, her eyes opening bit by bit as he talked about Winter Festival and dancing on the moon and the planets. She was wide awake while she proudly watched him showing off his dancing skills, the way his small body twisted rhythmically, his face beaming with joy, a grin on his lips a mile long as she clapped along to the music.

_"I'm dancing, Mama!"_

Just like that, he uplifted her and her day had turned better.

Haley starts to tremble, the tears she had been holding back bursting forth like a dam. Rocking herself back and forth, chin resting on her knees, her breathing comes in gasps as she cries uncontrollably for her child.

_Brain damage._

Her body quakes as she is choked with bitter grief over the savage cruelty of Jamie in a coma.

_Brain damage…drowning…a minute…brain damage…take a risk…hypothermia…temperature…brain damage… drowning…a minute…_

The water running cold revives her. Turning off the tap, she feels nothing close to a little better. She dries off quickly and wraps a towel around her body. With another smaller towel, she runs it vigorously through her hair to dry it as much as possible. Standing in front of the sink, she wipes off the condensation from the mirror with her hand, pausing to take a look at her reflection; she looks clean but awful.

Opening the medicine cabinet, she yanks her toothbrush from its holder and wets it under the tap before squeezing out a dollop of the blue minty toothpaste. Satisfied after flossing and gurgling mouthwash, she walks back into the bedroom. From where she left them on the moon chair on the day they left for Montana, she grabs the purple and white tank and matching flannel pajama pants, and the thick, dark red terrycloth robe, slipping them on. Her hands still on the robe's sash, lowering to her sides when she sees the indent in the middle of the bed; there's an arc underneath the beddings in the shape of a child's body.

Gritting her teeth and summoning strength of mind, Haley marches across the hallway, pushing open the white door marked with the green J. It's a neat room, no clothes or toys strewn about. Deb must have straightened it up because Jamie is not devoted to putting things away. Deb was also responsible for the décor of the room; she liked to dote on him, and she ripped apart this room when he outgrew the toddler bed. She carefully shaped it up, from the walls painted various shades of blue, to the designs stenciled on those walls, to the framed replica "Nathan Scott" Duke jersey. Sticking to an animal motif, she had the bedroom also serve as a playroom. Kid-sized furniture, upholstery and accessories decorate the ample space, and displayed on the walls are photographs of family and Jamie's Crayola artwork. It all fits together perfectly, and Jamie loves it.

It hits her just how empty and lonely the room feels without him in it. Her gaze strays to the bed with the jungle themed comforter and its identical pillow. The light from the hallway bulb shows that there's something shoved underneath it. Her fingers drag out two garments, a t-shirt and a basketball jersey. One belongs to her and the other to Nathan.

She feels so lightheaded that she thinks she might faint. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she holds the clothes to her chest as the tears hurtle down her cheeks again. He had been sleeping with them?

Her eyes feel so raw that she questions whether she's exorcising an emotional demon through her crying. At this rate, she may just choke and drown from all the tears. Wearily, she closes her eyes and relaxes back on the narrow bed, curling up in a fetal position. Everything smells like him. It makes her sob harder.

Sleep slowly crawls out of its hiding place, swallowing her up in its sweet comfort and oblivion as her cries subside. In her semi-conscious state, she hears a voice calling out her name from a place far away.

* * *

><p>"Hales?"<p>

Holding two large mugs of hot chocolate, Nathan supports himself on the door frame, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room through the partly open door. His gaze falls on the sleeping form of his wife. Her lips are parted slightly, and her hands are clutching something really tightly and protectively against her chest.

Even in slumber, she looks tired. It's been a rough week, a really rough day, and instead of looking forward to a better day tomorrow, he's dreading it.

"Nate?"

He pushes away from the door frame, turning to his mother. "Yeah?"

"Is everything okay?" she asks from the top of the stairwell.

"Yes," he says, walking towards her with the mugs still in his hands.

His mother nods, holding her hand out for the cups. "Peyton just called. They're leaving the hospital."

At his silent question, she adds, "Lucas is spending the night."

With a sigh, he slides one of the mugs into her waiting hands, plopping down on the first stair and placing his mug between his feet. "This is so messed up, Mom," he says quietly, staring ahead blankly.

"I know."

"I'm actually thinking about a move."

Deb's head snaps up. "A move?"

"Relocating."

A swell of panic rises in her. "What? Why?"

Nathan picks up his cup, studying the hot liquid before tentatively taking a sip. It scalds his tongue, making him grimace. "I've had it with all these…accidents. Maybe it'll do us good to live elsewhere."

When they moved to Durham for college, she was heartbroken that the only way to see them was on weekends. But at least they hadn't moved too far away and she was able to see her grandson grow up. If they decide to move, states away nevertheless, it will tear her apart.

"Trouble is not bred in North Carolina, Nate," his mother says finally, a hint of desperation in her voice.

He turns to her, bitterness, anger and anxiety etched on his face. "I know that, but this is just terrifying. Don't you think so?"

"Nate…"

"Mom," he starts firmly but gently, "it may seem like nothing but I'm tired of it. It feels like a curse and I don't want to find out what else is in store for us."

With a sigh, his expression shifts to hard resolve. The pictures lining the staircase are a reminder of what is important. "Jamie and Haley come first. Always. If moving away from Tree Hill means we at least go five years without any disasters, then that's what I'm going to do. I am not going to stick around and wait for something worse to happen to my family."

Deb nods agreeably, although she's boiling with pitiful apprehension. She's proud of the man he's come to be, thanks to a girl who took a chance on him, but she feels like she's going to lose them all.

"Nathan?"

They both look Haley's way, where she's standing outside Jamie's door, sleepy-eyed, arms folded over her chest. A very strange dream woke her up. She heard a childlike giggle and a little boy's voice saying, _"Mommy, I'm going to Montana to find ice monkeys." _

"What's going on?"

Although groggy, Haley's first impulse is to ask if something has happened. Nathan is on his feet, walking down the hallway towards her. "Nothing. Lucas is sleeping over at the hospital."

All that fear that had expired in her catnap rushes back, making her stomach coil. "Is Jamie okay?"

Her husband nods weakly, tugging her hand free and tracing her wrist with the pad of his thumb. "Come on. You need to sleep," he says in a soft tone.

Looking past him, she gives Deb a little wave as Nathan tows her behind him into their bedroom. Deb smiles solemnly, irritated with herself for being so selfish when there are bigger things in play than her self-interests.

* * *

><p>Weighed down with fatigue, Nathan walks stiffly to the bathroom after Haley falls asleep. The hot water does wonders on his body, the ache rolling off with every rivulet of water that goes down the drain. Rounding the bed, he shuts the lamp off and climbs in beside Haley, careful not to wake her. His arm goes over her waist, pulling her closer and kissing her cheek. She snuggles into him, breathing out a contented sigh.<p>

As exhausted as he is, sleep doesn't come. He closes his eyes tightly to feel that calming sense of drowsiness. Nothing. There's so much going on in his head that his eyes just fly open, aimlessly flickering around his boyhood bedroom from one corner of the wall to the other.

He lays awake for a long time, unable to find anything close to meaningful sleep. Finally giving up after what feels like hours of restlessness, he sits up gingerly to lean against the headboard. He slides off the bed and pulls the covers up to Haley's shoulders. He moves through the semi-darkness towards the door, the click of it when it closes like a gunshot in the silence of the night.

He descends the staircase carefully and stealthily like a burglar, heading for the phone in the living room. He calls Lucas, talking in hushed whispers, asking about Jamie, thanking his brother before they click off. As he stands by the couch, he rethinks flipping the light switch and instead turns on the TV, punching the mute button without surfing through the channels for any particular network.

Against the light from the large screen, he walks to the pile of cardboard boxes stowed away in a corner of the living room. He reaches for the box he's after to dig through the stack of photo albums. Haley's sorted them by year, and they go as far back as when they were dating. The one he's seeking is one of the thicker ones, "Jamie" embossed in gold on the maroon cover.

He sits back on the couch and opens it. The page creaks. He stares at that first picture curiously, as if it's his first time seeing it. It's a photo of Jamie staring up at the camera, fist in mouth, blue eyes as bright as a cloudless sky. He was only a couple of months old, a few weeks before Haley's train accident. He turns the page to one of him and Jamie. It was taken by Karen during that dark time when they'd all believed that Haley was dead. After his shift at Keith's garage, he'd gone to pick up Jamie from the café and Karen had sneakily taken the picture without his knowledge, printing it out for him later.

Slowly, he turns the heavy plastic pages one by one, finding himself smiling at each of the contents. Digital photos that have been printed out and stuck in between the adhesive leaves. Photographs of Jamie at different ages, from the one where he was a less-than-an-hour-old newborn to a recent one where he's grinning widely and holding a cracker during their trip from Durham.

Seeing Haley and Jamie's happy faces makes him more determined than before to give them a better life. They are the people who mean the world to him and he's damned if he won't keep them safe. In his mother's words, trouble may not be bred in North Carolina but it seems to be enjoying playing games with them a little too much. He's tired of that shit.

Moving away was a fleeting notion when he mentioned it to her, but right now, that not-so-innocuous thought is rapidly taking root.


	14. Chapter 14

The door slamming rouses him from sleep, an eye flickering open. A section of tan cushion comes into view. The scent of brewing coffee drifts under his nose. Light is flooding the room through the sheer white curtains.

Nathan blinks against sleep and the brightness. He turns his stiff neck slowly to look over at the mounted clock on the living room wall. Six thirty-five.

The morning is bright and sunny, that ostensibly picture-perfect sunny day for a picnic, a lie-in or a trip to the beach. Breathing out loudly, he drags a hand over his face and swings his legs over the couch. With a hiss, he reaches around his neck to massage the sore crook, stretching until it makes a cracking noise. It feels like the morning after a night of serious partying.

The photo album is lying open on the floor, Jamie's toothy grin flashing at him, a captured moment on their road trip to the Grand Canyon last year. The laptop is still on, humming softly as it dimly displays its most recent web pages. With a silent groan, he shuts the photo album, and closes the lid of the warm laptop and unplugs it from the socket.

Although the coffee aroma is compelling, he opts to shower first. Stumbling a little with sleep, he heads towards the staircase. In knots about the day ahead, he shimmies his way into the bedroom. Haley's still out, her arms embracing her pillow like she's afraid to let it go. He watches her for a moment, sleeping on her side, dark strands draped across the sheet. She emits a sigh, her lips curving into that small smile that he still finds ridiculously cute. A slight smile touches his lips. Despite the doubts from people and their almost-breakup in high school, they made it to six years together. She has supported him in every sense of the word, from emotionally to financially.

The band she'd joined while he was in hospital, Haley's Comet, built a good name for itself in a very short time. They were often hired for special events like weddings and mitzvahs, and even did a few corporate receptions. Once, they performed a cappella at a funeral.

She paid their bills with those gigs and her tutoring job at the university. He wasn't uncomfortable or threatened that his wife was the primary breadwinner; he was uncomfortable with how much work she did. She was a mother, a student, a band singer; she fulfilled so many roles that sometimes he worried that she would disintegrate. He pitched in more in caring for Jamie and doing housework, because when she had band practice or a weekend event, he couldn't let her do it all. She worked hard, and he in turn worked hard to make sure that he would return the favour; when the day came, he didn't want her to worry about money. That day had come, and he was getting offers from various teams that wanted him to play for them.

Not wanting to wake her, he puts away the album and the computer on the dresser. With a yawn, he heads for the bathroom. An invigorating hot shower is what he needs to release the tension and clear his cloudy mind.

Haley wakes up to the sound of the shower running. Blinking sleepy eyes at the bathroom door, she's aware of the cold space beside her in the sheets. She rolls over to her stomach to stretch out and flex her muscles.

Throwing back the covers, she rubs her eyes and yawns, swinging out of the bed. She stretches out her arms again over her head, pulls her hair into a ponytail, and makes her way to the bathroom. The shadow of his body is visible behind the frosted glass, steam swirling and escaping into the air and fogging up the mirror.

After brushing her teeth, she sheds her clothes and leaves them in a pile on the floor beside his. She peels back the door to join him. Her arms snake around his waist, her lips pressing tenderly on the minuscule beauty spot on the curve of his back before leaning her cheek on his wet skin. "How long have you been up?"

Nathan moves his hands over hers, spinning around so as to face her. "Not too long."

He leans forward, lightly kisses her cheek before kissing her deeply on the lips. "Did you sleep okay?"

"I think I passed out completely," she answers with a small smile, her arms going around his neck. "Did you?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," she states, kissing his chin softly. She remembers the very cold side of his bed that had no lasting warmth like it usually does when he wakes up before her.

"Where did you sleep?"

She peers at him intently, his face barely two inches away from hers. He looks so tired.

"I'm okay."

The hot water is certainly helping to iron out the stiffness.

"Nathan…" she starts in a strained voice, lowering her arms from his neck.

He takes a step forward, circling his arms around her, his face in her neck as his lips brush lightly on her shoulder. She worries so much about him that sometimes he finds it astonishing. It's so different from how it was when he was growing up; when Dan worried, it was about him breaking curfew, not concern for his safety.

"I'm fine, Hales. I just fell asleep looking through the photo albums. Really."

Her eyes catch a glimpse of the dark branded ink on his upper rib cage. Her hand rubs along his skin to reach the vivid decoration. She smiles as she usually does when she sees it, her fingertips tracing the detailed miniature pair of angel's wings with a halo floating above them, her name, and Jamie's name and birth date, inscribed between the wings. He unveiled the tattoo on her birthday, after she broke down asking why he had been distant with her.

_"Are you having an affair?" was what she blurted when he wished her a happy birthday that morning._

_He sat up quickly. "What?"_

_"We haven't been together in a really long time, Nathan. You've barely touched me in a really long time."_

_She looked up at him steadily. If she blinked, she was sure the tears pooling her eyes would have run down the side of her face to hit her pillow in rivers. "I completely understand if you're bored with me, but I wish you'd just told me instead of asking me for a divorce on my birthday."_

_He burst out laughing, at which she growled and pulled the comforter over her head. "Is leaving me that damn amusing to you?"_

_"I'm not leaving you," he chuckled, dragging the covers away from her face. _

_"Fifteen days, Nathan. We haven't had sex in fifteen days. You won't even let me touch you. I haven't seen you shirtless for two weeks. So you're either sick or you don't want me to see what's underneath your clothes. So which is it? Bite marks? Fingernail dents?"_

_He laughed again, drawing the comforter down to her waist. "Sit up. I want to show you something, you nympho."_

_She snorted, sitting up to lean on the headboard. "Says the man who complains after three days. Are you showing me our divorce papers?" _

_On his knees, Nathan laughed again at her theatricality and pulled his shirt over his head. "No."_

_Her eyes roamed over his chest, as if memorizing it for the last time. "What? What am I supposed to be seeing?"_

_Lifting up his left arm slightly, he twisted around on the bed. A shocked gasp passed her lips. She was turning giddy as her hand reached out for the stunning illustration._

_Since getting it, it had proven difficult keeping her in the dark about it. Although the tattoo artist had told him that a rib side tattoo took longer to heal, he hadn't thought it would take so long. _

_Her eyes lifted up to his. "You…"_

_"Happy birthday, baby." _

_Palms flat on the bed, he leaned over her to place several kisses on her parted lips. "Are you surprised?" he said, teeth gently tugging at her lower lip. _

_She just nodded, a glorious smile crossing her face, erasing her sadness. "Holy shit, I love it. When did you get it? Where did—"_

_Before she could continue, Nathan was lying on top of her, his mouth muffling her soft delighted cry of surprise. "It's been fifteen very, very long days, Hales. And it's your birthday," he breathed impishly against her lips._

_"It _is_ my birthday," she giggled, her thumb stroking the tattoo. "And you need to make it up to me."_

_"Do I?"_

_"You do."_

_And he did._

Haley leans her head back, showing him a weak smile. "Maybe next time you can bring them up and we can look through together."

Her arms loop again around his neck, fingers sliding through his wet hair as the water radiates heat around them. She touches the ridge on his scalp from the brain surgery, and she exploits their closeness to press their bodies together. That instantly breaks out her lust.

She rises up on tiptoes to slant her mouth on his. As their tongues meet, he backs her up against the tiled wall, away from the assault of the water, his body pinning hers. Lifting her, he widens her position, and her legs automatically wrap around him.

He takes both her wrists in one of his hands and raises her arms over her head. With the other hand, he roams up her thigh, her hip, to her waist, to caress her naked breast. It feels like it's been so long since this kind of excitement has soared through her body. She needs strength today. She can sense his strength in the firm hands on her hips. She can feel it in his wet, muscled torso as it presses against her breasts. Yes, she can feed off his.

Their mouths feast on each other's in breathless and passionate kisses, nibbles and tugs of intent. Grinding into him, she groans in a soft purr, tearing her mouth from his for air. She's weak-kneed, her heart beating fast, her pulse roaring in her ears. His eyes are dark and brilliant with the fire she's bearing, and with their ragged breaths mingling, she rasps without hesitation, "I want you…"

His mouth is on hers again in the same fervour, his tongue sweeping into her mouth in another greedy drugging kiss. Her hips twist and move, begging him to enter her ready and waiting body. He responds by freeing her wrists, and she winds her arms around his neck, and in a smooth stroke, he pushes inside her, stretching her, filling her. They both moan aloud, drinking in each other's hungry sounds as he starts to glide in and out.

"Nathan…" she whispers, gently clamping his lower lip between her teeth.

"I'm right here," he groans, then jams his tongue into her eager mouth at the same time as he drives another hard thrust into her.

Surrounded by the heat of the steam, the basic need to be joined rivals taking it slow; they need something swift but satisfying, a frantic coupling that still establishes the connection binding them together.

* * *

><p>She's reading through an extensive and detailed article on therapeutic hypothermia when the doorbell chimes. Allan and Deb are still out on their morning walk, and Nathan is shaving. Shoving her feet in her sandals, Haley hurries down the stairs. The bell rings rather insistently, and it is accompanied by knocking.<p>

The loud sounds echo around the silent house in quick succession, and at about the fourth persistent sharp ring, Haley violently pulls the door open before the person on the other side breaks down the door or jams the doorbell. "I'm—"

She gasps in surprise at the same time that the guests yelp and yell with their own surprise. A jubilant scream follows.

_"Sweetheart!"_

Lydia James, shell-shocked and ecstatic, throws her arms around her youngest child. It's an awkward hug between mother and daughter, with Haley's hands lying limply by her sides as her mother squeezes the life out of her.

"Oh, sweetie! Where have you been!?"

An extra body joins in the hug, clasping the two James women in a tighter embrace that lasts for a while longer.

"Are we hugging a ghost?" Jimmy James rumbles.

"I don't think so," his daughter answers, trapped in the sandwich hug, her voice muffled on her mother's shoulder. "Mom…"

The parents step back, Lydia framing Haley's face in her hands. "You're okay!"

Before Haley can react, her mother plants a drawn out kiss on her lips. Too stunned to speak, Haley's mouth is slightly parted as her mother pulls away.

"Look at you!" Lydia cries, her eyes brimming with tears. "I thought you were dead!"

"I think she's as shocked as we are," Jimmy says, pinching Haley's cheek affectionately like he used to when she was seven before pulling her close for a tight hug. "Aren't you, lovebug?"

_"Nathan!"_ her mother squeals again, breezing past like a hurricane, advancing towards her son-in-law to give him one of her bone-crushing hugs.

Standing beside him, Lydia looks back and forth between them. "Can someone please explain to us what is going on here? We were under the impression that you were lost in the jungle. And where is Jamie? Is he awake?"

A glance passes between Nathan and Haley. Her stomach feels like it's full of acid now.

"How about we talk over coffee?" Nathan tells his in-laws.

"What? What's happening?" Lydia asks in confusion, wiping the sides of her eyes.

"Please, Dad?" Haley sends her father a pleading look, hoping that it doesn't convey just how scared she really is.

Jimmy steps away from the doorway, shutting the door behind him. He takes Lydia gently by the elbow to lead her towards the kitchen.

"Come on, Lyd."

"Wait, Jimmy, I—"

"We woke them up, Lydia. At least let's give them time to jumpstart their systems."

While Haley fixes the beverages, Nathan asks them about Europe. The small talk feels clumsy, with everyone looking quite uncomfortable by the fact that there's something going unsaid. Filling the mugs with freshly brewed coffee, Haley arranges them on a tray and carries it to the table, placing a steaming cup in front of everyone. She pushes the sugar bowl and jug of cream towards her parents. Her father gives her a quick smile of gratitude.

"Do you want anything to eat? I can make you toast or eggs," Haley says, like she needs more to do before facing this conversation.

They both shake their heads. Wiping her hands down her dress, she takes the seat beside Nathan, laying her hand on his lap. They sit in silence, none of them attempting to drink the coffee as they look across each other as if in cold war. The identical mugs are cradled in their hands as they exchange nervous and skittish looks.

"Would one of you please start talking?" Jimmy asks with concern.

Clearing his throat, Nathan takes a careful sip of coffee. After a while, Haley answers with a quivering voice, "Jamie's in the hospital."

"My God," Lydia whispers in alarm. "What happened?"

"He drowned and he's been in a—" Haley chokes, going mum.

Nathan takes her hand before looking up at his in-laws. "He's in intensive care in a coma."

Lydia shakes her head slightly, reaching over to cover Haley's other hand with her own. She's pale and her eyes are welling up with tears. "Oh, honey…"

"There's a treatment option," Nathan adds. He proceeds to explain the procedure, leaving out the part where Jamie had died for a minute. Had they given up resuscitating him, they would be having a very different conversation.

"Can we see him?" Jimmy asks nervously after Nathan is done.

Nathan nods. "We're about to leave for the hospital." He was going to pack up Jamie's bag before he heard Lydia's scream.

"I have to find Jamie's insurance papers," Haley says to her parents. "Help yourself to anything, okay?"

An anxious expression crosses her mother's face as she nods. "You need us to help you with anything?"

"Um, no. Wait. You could call Viv and the others and tell them that we're alright?"

"But you're not," Jimmy argues. "Jamie…"

"Dad, please," she says firmly. "There's no reason to bring them here. We're fine."

"Haley," her mother interjects, "they're your family. Of course they'd come to see you."

Scooting back her chair, Haley stands up so fast that she bumps the table with her hip. "You mean like they did when I came home after my coma? Or when Nathan was in a coma for months? When I needed you to be there for me?" she asks, almost angrily.

Her parents look at each other for a brief moment before gazing back at her. They are confused and hurt by her burst. Sighing, Haley presses fingers to her brow, berating herself for bringing it up.

"I shouldn't…I'm sorry. Right now I have to find insurance papers that I can't quite remember where I last put them."

With a very unconvincing smile, she leaves the room, her sandals shuffling against the floor.

"Doesn't she want us here? Does she hate us?" Lydia asks Nathan quietly, breaking the silence. "Because…"

"Of course not," Nathan responds quickly and adamantly, noting their crestfallen appearances. "Haley just misses you."

As much as his wife insists that it's okay that her family isn't the least bothered with her, or with each other, he knows she's bothered by it. She doesn't show it when it creeps up but he knows it pains her. He's caught her staring longingly at her childhood photographs, talking about how her brothers and sisters would often visit, their presence making their house warm again. The visits eventually became sporadic, holidays being spent separately in different states, minimal phone calls and Christmas cards being the prime communication tool.

"You have to understand that it gets hard on her when things happen and none of you seem all that interested. Especially when she reaches out and asks for your support."

"Have we really been that bad?" Jimmy asks incredulously.

Instead of answering, Nathan picks up both his and Haley's mugs, pushing away from the table. "It's understandable that you didn't stay around for long after we got married. I'm very grateful that you let us get married that young, but even so, Haley was still your daughter. Still is. I guess she just doesn't understand why you were so eager to leave before the ink dried on our marriage certificate."

"She had a family with you, Nathan. You, then Jamie," Lydia says, her eyes growing wide at what her son-in-law just said.

Nathan nods, unsure of why he put them on the spot like that. But he loves Haley. He wants to protect her. Every now and then fight her battles for her, from killing thick-legged spiders to having it out with parents. "I know, but sometimes, she still needs her other family. Is that so wrong?"

Neither of them replies. He could direct a query at Lydia, ask her if she felt she needed her family after getting married. Knowing what he does – what neither he nor Haley should know – about the bad relationship she had with her deceased sister Gloria, he does nothing, not wanting to sink that low.

"Haley doesn't resent you, but you've been so absent in her life that it may seem you intentionally stay away from her."

"We don't," objects Jimmy.

With a curious glance, Nathan asks, "Then why do you? You make a point of visiting everyone else but her."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Lydia answers, "There is no conspiracy here, Nathan. There are no dark family secrets that involve Haley."

Nathan turns his back to them, heading to the sink. He pours out the coffee and rinses the cups, staring out at the child's colourful swing set in the backyard. He hates to dredge up the past when it doesn't really do them any good, but this is the closest he's ever gotten to talking to them about it.

Grabbing a paper towel, he pats his hands dry as he faces them. "I meant no disrespect. I really didn't. But she's my wife. I hate seeing her hurting. I don't like it one bit. And if at one time I can change that, I will."

* * *

><p>The monitor beeps and the ventilator hisses in room two-fourteen, keeping tabs on the patient's condition. They ease through the door quietly and into the uninviting room, as though worried they'll wake him up. The plastic tube is still between his lips, providing artificial oxygen to his unresponsive body. He's still hooked onto numerous wires, his hands hidden under the covers that are tucked neatly around him.<p>

Haley approaches the bed, setting the small, canvas duffle bag on the floor. She presses her lips to his pale forehead for a moment. "Hi, baby. We're back."

At the collective gasps behind her, she turns her head slowly. Her parents have frightened and horrified looks on their faces as they stand mutely at the foot of the bed, staring down at the little boy's still form.

"Oh, Christ," her father exhales in an agonized whisper.

Haley's eyes turn watery, and looking away from her parents, she reaches the backs of her fingers to rub Jamie's soft cheek. "Grandma Lydia and Grandpa Jimmy came to see you, Jame."

His small chest rises mechanically as the artificial breath paces air into his lungs. Her fingers are shaking as she brushes his hair lightly, that damaging sense of dread and fright remaining where it is in her very core. Her eyes meet with Nathan's momentarily as he settles into the chair on the opposite side of the bed.

"I bet they have a cool gift for you from Europe," Nathan says, reaching under the blanket for his son's hand. Small and warm.

"We sure do, Jamie," Jimmy croaks gruffly from the footboard, his hand running up and down a sniffling Lydia's arm.

"Grandpa Jimmy picked it out, peanut," Lydia snivels from beside him.

"You hear that, bud? It's not even your birthday and you have an awesome present waiting for you." Nathan smiles to himself, remembering that they planned to buy him a scooter. He can almost hear Jamie's ecstatic yell, and at that moment, more stress catches up with him. His little boy has him wrapped around his finger, and it's still hard for him to deny him what he wants.

The bathroom door opens, and out walks Lucas. His eyes widen some in surprise at the sight of Haley's parents. The trio hugs silently before Lucas walks around them towards Haley.

"Hey," he greets her quietly with a hug.

She looks up at him with a shaky smile. "Hi. Thank you for staying with him."

"No problem." Staying with him is the least he could do, considering it's his burden that their son is in a coma.

"I was told you'd arrived," Dr. Harris says cheerfully as he saunters into the room, followed by a nurse.

On opposite sides of Jamie's bedside, Haley and Nathan stand to face the doctor. "Dr. Harris, was there improvement last night?" she asks nervously after he greets her parents.

The doctor adjusts his glasses, sliding them back up his nose. "No. He's still the same as yesterday."

Haley sighs faintly, stealing a glance at Nathan. He's gazing down at Jamie, his thumb rubbing against the little fingers.

"Everything is ready. Shall we begin?" Dr. Harris asks. Eyeing Haley's parents, he says, "We need to clear out the room before we bring in the equipment."

Jimmy nods. "Oh. Of course. We'll just get out of your way." He throws Haley a thin smile as he guides Lydia out the room, and they shuffle out behind Lucas.

Once they're gone, Dr. Harris takes out his trusted penlight. "Shall we get started?"

"Wait."

They all turn to Nathan. "What are the chances he'll develop pneumonia from this?"

Haley's eyes are slightly wide as she stammers, "Pneumonia?"

Her parents showed up, and she didn't get a chance to read about the risks and side effects of the treatment in the article.

Dr. Harris smiles kindly at them. "He's on antibiotics to prevent that."

"Is that enough?" Nathan raises, mentally going through the dangers of the procedure that he read about.

"This treatment will not worsen his condition."

"Are you sure?" Haley asks hesitantly. She's becoming apprehensive about proceeding.

He smiles again, not the least bit ruffled that they're questioning his credibility. Parents, after all, want their children in the safest hands. "Absolutely."

Turning to the nurse, he spews out medical terms about blood gases and acids, using unpronounceable terms that only the two comprehend. Moving to the cot, Haley takes Nathan's hand in both of hers and squeezes it repeatedly. The moment they had been dreading has arrived.

The nurse pulls away the blanket carefully, and then reaches for the hem of Jamie's gown. Haley rises to her feet in alarm. "What are you doing?"

The nurse turns to look at Dr. Harris. Hands in his pockets, he faces Haley and says, "We have to strip him of his clothes."

"Why?" she counters anxiously.

"Mrs. Scott, this is how the treatment is done," Dr. Harris clarifies. "We need to be able to apply the cold packs on your son's upper body and we can't do that unless he's out of the gown."

She sits back carefully on the cot. The room feels chilly. She shudders, feeling goose bumps rising on her flesh.

"Are you okay?" Nathan whispers from beside her.

Nodding, she answers, "I just feel cold."

He gives her a small reassuring smile, sensing a chill in the air, too. They observe as equipment is brought in, listening quietly as Dr. Harris explains every device. Cold-water mattress. Cooling blankets. Helmet.

_"…thermometer will help us monitor his core…infusion of cold fluids…cold saline in the catheter…endovascular…femoral vein…"_

After what feels like an epoch of listening to incomprehensible medical terms, the procedure is underway.

Dr. Harris straightens, removing his gloves as he moves away from the bed. "Our objective is to reach a temperature of between thirty-two and thirty-four degrees within twenty-four hours."

Tilting his head towards Nathan, he continues, "You mentioned pneumonia and I assure you that we will observe Jamie closely to watch for any potential complications, okay?"

Giving them a brief smile, he follows the nurse out the door.

It feels like a long time later when Nathan is aware enough to push up out of the cot and walk slowly towards the hospital bed. The machines continue their daunting humming, beeping and whistling tunes.

He sits in the chair next to the bed, feeling helpless as he stares down at his son, dazed about every horrible thing that is placed into and onto his little boy. He looks smaller, more fragile and frail, his entire body covered with one form or another of cooling apparatus.

Nathan puts his hand on the small bit of Jamie's arm that is free of wires. He quickly jerks his hand away. "He's so cold. Is he…is he supposed to be this cold?"

Wrapping her arms around her middle, Haley moves from the cot to fall into the chair on the opposite side of the bed.

Her heart pounds madly as she lifts a hand to touch Jamie's own. She breathes out the lungful of air she had been holding in. Her hands are shaking as she brings them up to her mouth, struggling to compose herself.

"Oh my God…"

He is chilly, like they've shoved him into a meat locker.

* * *

><p>Pushing out of her chair wearily after a long stretch of time, Haley says, "I'm going for a walk. Do you want anything?"<p>

Nathan doesn't answer, staring down at Jamie thoughtfully. "Nathan?"

His head jerks up, finding her looking at him with concern. "Yeah?"

"I'm stepping out. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

Recovering himself, Nathan replies in a mumble, "Um, I…I could use some coffee."

The fact that the room feels as cold as a tomb does not sit well with him. Even thinking the word makes him shudder inwardly.

"I won't be too long."

Grabbing her purse, she turns towards the door and out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She slowly moves down the hallway to the nearest elevator, pressing down on the call button. With a ding, the chrome doors open almost immediately. She steps in alone, punching the button again repeatedly for it to begin its descent. Closing her eyes at the sadness deep in her heart, she eases back on the metallic wall.

It's a slow ride as the elevator stops and lingers at every floor, hospital personnel and visitors filing in. Ignoring the chatter of voices ringing around her on the ride down, she listens to the beeping as the elevator announces each stop. With a soft whoosh, the doors swing back and she disembarks with the remaining passengers.

Purposely, she strides past the gift shop, the pharmacy, and the open and closed rooms off each side of the stark white hallway with the sleeping patients and their anxious visitors. She walks further down the maze of the long corridor, weaving around conversing doctors, nurses and orderlies, and patients in wheelchairs and gurneys, until she finds what she's looking for.

Walking down the aisle, she counts five people scattered in pews around the room. At the sight of the wooden cross, she's unsure of what gesture to make. She wasn't raised Catholic to make a sign of the cross, and her parents were latent Methodists who hassled the family to church periodically, specifically on Christmas Eve every other year or so.

She makes her way to the small altar, slipping out five dollars from her purse and sliding it into the donation box. She then picks up the thin elongated matchstick to light one of the candles before settling into a pew. Her eyes shut slowly as she starts to pray. She prays for her son, she asks for strength for all of them to bear the pain they're in right now, she prays for a miracle. She promises to find absolute pleasure in the repetitive playing of "Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" when Jamie wakes up. Mostly, she prays for her son, for him to get better, for the treatment to work, for him not to be adversely affected by it all.

Someone settles in beside her and without having to look, she knows who it is. The whiff of gardenias is her signature scent. Haley slides closer to her. She leans her head on Peyton's shoulder. Her eyes are fixated on the white iPod in her friend's hand as they both sit quietly for several minutes.

"You want to talk about it?" Peyton asks in a soft voice.

Haley says nothing. Finally, she answers, "He's so cold, Peyt. It's as if they put him in a freezer."

Peyton can feel her trembling all over.

"The doctor said that he won't catch pneumonia from the treatment but if you saw what they're doing…" She shuts her eyes, flashing back to the scene upstairs. "If you saw him…he's so little and they've covered him up with all kinds of cold stuff."

Peyton leans her cheek on Haley's dark hair in comfort. "It's going to be okay, Hales. He'll survive this."

She's saying it for Haley's sake as much as her own. Since Jamie was admitted, she can't help but shudder every time she walks into his room. He looks so tiny and completely helpless encircled by all those tubes and machines. And Luke's guilt is heartbreaking to see.

"At least twenty-four hours," Haley says in a monotone.

"What?"

"He'll be like that for at least a day before they rewarm him."

Grasping Peyton's hand, she holds onto it as she begins to cry, the tears gliding down her cheeks mercilessly. She can't count the number of times over the years she's cried on Peyton's shoulder. She opens her mouth with intent to apologize and say thank you, but more sobs pass through. Her little boy is fighting for his life…

"I-I don't know what t-to do, Peyton," she whimpers as her cries quieten.

"You're doing it already, Hales. You're there for your husband and your son and right now, it's the only thing you can do."

Lifting her head, Haley releases her hand from Peyton's and wipes at her eyes with her fingers. "Things sound so much better when you say them."

"It's a gift."

They both laugh lowly.

"Thanks, Peyt. I mean it. Thanks for being around when I'm a mess."

"You do the same for me."

With a deep breath, Haley leans back on the pew, her eyes raised up to the cross. She hopes that her prayers do not go unheard.

"Wanna listen to something?"

Nodding, Haley takes the small white earbud that Peyton is holding out. The first beats of UB40's "Red Red Wine" blare out, making her chuckle.

"That was a good night, wasn't it?" Peyton grins, bopping her head gently to the music.

"It was," Haley responds nostalgically.

The night before their second wedding, they had a girls' night in at Peyton's house. Buzzed from glass after glass of wine, Peyton had cranked up the song, and for the entire duration it was playing, they were lost in its rhythm, giggling, slurring and tripping over words. It was definitely different from that summer night back in high school when her friends had thrown her a belated bachelorette party. Then, there was a lot of hard liquor, several male strippers, and a ten-minute blackout for Haley. That night in spring was not the least bit close to raucous. After a day at the spa thanks to Deb, it was a modest and light get-together, just what she wanted, a luau party with her Tree Hill friends, minus Brooke. They drank plenty of wine, ate a lot of gooey Hawaiian pizza, laughed, played games, and made it a girly bonding party.

"Is it appropriate that we're listening to it in a chapel?" she asks in a whisper, pulling out the bud.

Peyton takes a glance around and replies in a low voice, "Wine is used in Communion so I guess it's okay."

"As long as it's not "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off," we're good, right?" Haley grins.

Peyton breaks out into a shrieky laugh, clamping a hand over her mouth when the sound echoes in the chapel.

"Shhhh," Haley giggles beside her, turning her head to scan the faces of the other occupants, who are looking on at them reproachfully.

"Oh my God, I should be the one cheering you up, not the other way round," Peyton gasps as their amusement dies down.

Tucking back the earbud and linking her arm through Peyton's, Haley rests her head back on her friend's shoulder. "You already did."

* * *

><p>A soft knock on the door and a turn of the handle reveals Brooke. "Hey, Na—"<p>

The greeting dies on her lips when her gaze falls to the bed, seeing the gear on and surrounding Jamie.

"Holy fuck," she cries out in shock.

Something tremors inside her. She makes her way slowly to Jamie's bedside, draping her sweater over the empty chair. Falling into the chair, her eyes rake over the motionless child with tubes poking out of his skin under the thin bed sheet.

To break the silence that has lingered on for a while, Nathan leans back in his chair and says, "It's good to see you, Brooke."

Brooke looks up, the look on her face still one of complete horror.

"I wish it were under different circumstances," he continues as her face starts to resume its usual colour.

She blinks out of her daze, nodding faintly and saying quietly, "Me, too."

Shifting in the seat nervously, Brooke clears her throat. "Nate, I just want to say I'm sorry that I never came to see you when…"

He shakes his head, rubbing his hands together. "I know and I understand." He gives her an encouraging smile. "You've got to stop apologizing. It's okay. Really."

Neither persuaded nor comforted, Brooke smiles back weakly, her eyes drifting to the machines and poles by the bed. She can't begin to imagine what Nathan and Haley must be feeling, but they both look absolutely devastated.

"Are you here with Peyton?" Nathan quips. The sounds from the equipment are making him antsy, every punctuated bleep like a gun going off in his ears.

Brooke nods, her eyes fleeting over to his before they're back on the green lines of the heart monitor. "She's at the chapel. Everyone else is down at the cafeteria."

Nathan cocks his head to the side. "Everyone?"

"Your folks, Haley's, and your grandparents."

With a slight rise of an eyebrow, he repeats, "My grandparents?"

"Yeah," she says with a nod.

"Everything okay?" he asks after a quiet moment, noting the repetitive pulling at her fingernails.

She nods yet again, but it's more of a bob, a cross between a nod and a shake of the head. Nathan regards her quizzically.

"I was at the chapel and I saw Peyton and Haley and…it's irrelevant and I…I shouldn't…" Her voice trails off as she looks at Jamie.

"We're friends, Brooke," Nathan insists. He needs a distraction from his heavy thoughts.

Brooke breathes out loudly. "A lot has changed since high school, Nate."

The truth is that seeing her two friends sitting so comfortably with each other sent a pang of jealousy through her. She knows she's not the glue that held them all together but for that moment Peyton and Haley were laughing over something she had no inkling of, she was jealous. She knows that they're closer than she is with Peyton, and she was jealous. It wasn't helping when yesterday, she overheard Peyton refer to Haley as her best friend when they ran into a crowd she was with at UNC. Most of all, she's jealous of the closeness that everyone seems to have without her, the lives they have carved out for themselves even without her in it.

"Everything has changed and I just wish I had been a part of it."

"You've changed, too, Brooke."

She exhales. "You know what I mean. I never made it home for any holidays, I missed my friends' birthdays and graduations, and _I_ didn't even get to finish college to have a graduation. When I finally make it home, it's to find Jamie in hospital, hearing that you and Haley were stuck in a desert, and then Peyton telling me that she's getting married—"

Nathan's eyes widen. "Peyton is getting married?"

Her mouth clamps shut and she grimaces. "Don't tell her I told you, okay?"

She would deny this vehemently under oath but apart from her job, seeing Peyton and Luke together was a little painful to be around. The way she'd seen it back in high school, he had chosen Peyton over her, and it hurt her pride more than anything when they had broken up.

With Peyton being her best friend, sometimes it was inevitable listening in on her phone conversations with Lucas and seeing them together around town. Their relationship had changed something in the dynamic of her and Peyton's relationship, but they both chose to ignore it rather than talk it out. It took her a long time to finally get past Lucas, to realize that love was either there or it wasn't. Truthfully, she'd always had one foot outside the door while with Marvin, as if waiting to bolt if he showed signs of leaving her. Their last fight was a wakeup call to get her act together. She loved Marvin, and being a half-ass girlfriend wasn't doing them any good.

With a small smile, Nathan says, "I won't."

His brother finally proposed. Took him long enough.

At the centre of the three, Brooke, Lucas and Peyton, was a love triangle that had always been a mystery to him. Perhaps it's because he had never really been involved in something so messy, considering he started dating Haley after breaking it off with Peyton. There are no begrudging or unpleasant expressions on Brooke's face to show her displeasure at their engagement. She must really be over Lucas.

"Jamie will probably jump at the chance of being the best man again," he says proudly, looking down at his son.

Although he and Lucas served as co-best men at the wedding, Jamie was always quick to claim seniority at the role.

"What's he like?" she asks uncertainly in a low whisper.

They do have a good rapport when she visits, she's seen the numerous pictures they send her, but she really doesn't know her godson. She makes an effort to call when she can but time has gone by so quickly that she feels she hasn't caught up with him.

Nathan studies her oddly for a moment and then the look is gone. "He's a great kid. As his father I'm biased, but he's a really amazing kid."

He gazes down at Jamie, his eyes transfixed on the breathing tube. "He's smart, sweet, funny, goofy, cheeky, vocal, easy-going, sometimes dramatic. He loves school but I don't know how that will turn when he starts full-day kindergarten."

Brookes laughs softly. "I hated school after that."

"Me, too. Maybe he'll be like his mom and secretly work on his homework even when he has the flu."

"She did that?"

"And more," Nathan smiles, his hand reaching for Jamie's. "The first time he saw my tattoo, he didn't understand why I didn't ask him to draw it for me. He actually wanted me to take him to this person who didn't use crayons like he did."

"Let me guess. It has something to do with Haley and Jamie?"

He gives a soft laugh. "Haley and Jamie."

He tried his best to answer every one of Jamie's numerous questions, from "did it hurt?" to the recurring "can I get one?" And then Jamie was quick to shout for his mother and brag about the tattoo.

_"Mama, come see this! Daddy's got my name on his body!"_

Brooke doesn't miss the expression of complete adoration on Nathan's face. She wonders what it must feel like, to have such a little person mean everything to you.

"Listen, Brooke," he begins seriously, looking back at her, "no one holds it against you for working or traveling. All we've cared about is knowing that you're happy and that you're doing what you've always wanted to do."

"I was. For some time anyway. And then it all got so crazy. I lost myself along the way. It became too much to handle and I opted to walk away."

"You quit?"

Haley did give him tidbits about Brooke's current status this morning but he'd rather not show her that he already knows.

"I took French leave," she grins smugly, like she's just admitted to doing something scandalous or participated in a heinous crime.

"What are you going to do?"

She thinks for a moment, clasping her hands together. "Peyton has a project in mind and I was thinking I could stick around and pitch in until I've sorted myself out."

Nathan nods agreeably, glad to see that she's genuinely excited about whatever they're planning. Brooke's approach to her projects has never been short of fiery. Her campaign for student president back in high school was akin to something that would be seen in an actual political campaign. Brooke Davis had a strategic campaign team when the other contenders made do with a minimalistic approach. Brooke Davis had campaign headquarters, which were really her living room, stacked with professionally reproduced posters and buttons when her opponents used printed posters on A4. Brooke Davis had made pre-arranged 'appearances' and 'meet-and-greets' in the local hangouts that their classmates were likely to be found in. It was quite an impressive, memorable and legendary operation. She had the money and she'd made proper use of it.

"So you'll be here for the summer?" he asks.

"Looks like it. What about you?" The look on her face tells him that she's about to apologize but he shakes his head to stop her.

"It's fine, Brooke."

She confided something and he could return the favour. Taking a glance at the door, he lowers his voice and says, "To be honest, I think we'll be gone before the summer is over."

Her face scrunches up in confusion. "Back to Durham? I thought you were moving back permanently."

"That was the plan before…" He sighs, his thumb running tenderly over Jamie's knuckles. "I've had a few offers from some teams but I'm not sure I want to play for them. Nothing is concrete yet but I want to explore the options and see the possibilities."

"Okay?" she says, still unsure as to where this is going.

"Thing is, there are some good teams in the West Coast league that are interested and I want to move my family there."

He's been toying around with the idea since the chat with his mother last night but he has fully come to a decision. After Duke, the NBA was the next step, but _where_ in the NBA wasn't the most logical answer. Initially, playing far from North Carolina was to get away from Dan Scott but his reasoning had changed after Haley. He wants to give his family the best, and he's capable of doing it by making the right choice from an option of many.

Brooke appears shocked, and she's a little panicked about what Nathan is saying. Nathan and Haley have been her solid thought when she thinks of home and if they're moving away…Things are definitely changing.

"Relocate?"

He shrugs. "It's just a thought. Besides, the West Coast is far enough away from all this…trouble. It just seems like the answer we need."

This place is a reminder of both good and bad, and the bad right now far outweighs the good.

"What does Haley think?" she mumbles curiously.

He taps a finger to his forehead. "I haven't talked to her about it yet. But if she refuses, I wouldn't push it."

"She won't. She's committed to you, Nate. And to Jamie. If this is what you really want, she'll go along with it."

He shakes his head. "I don't want her to go along with it. I love her, Brooke, and I wouldn't coerce her into doing something she doesn't want to do."

Brooke nods and then there's a deep silence between them. For Brooke, the relationship between Nathan and Haley was something off a book; their complete devotion and unconditional love for each other wasn't something you encountered every day. It was so strong that they'd gotten married at sixteen. She thought it had something to do with a pregnancy, but it had been the real deal. She struggled to understand it, and part of her is still struggling to understand a love like that.

Considering all he's said, Brooke grins and then says, "Coerce, Nate? Your wife rubbed off on you?"

Her humour is an attempt to deal with the fear. It has scared the wits out of her thinking of them leaving. Things won't be the same when they do, with everyone here and them…elsewhere.

He chuckles softly, lifting his head. "You should hear her making basketball commentary during a game. She's becoming a pro."

She recently became the proud owner of a copy of "Basketball for Dummies". He sure does love Haley James.


	15. Chapter 15

The two friends are walking towards the elevators when a shrill cry makes them stop. "Oh. My. God. Peyton _Sawyer!?_"

Curiously, they both turn at the same time, to be met by the bouncy form of one Bevin Mirskey. The former Tree Hill High cheerleader shrieks again, uncaring that they're in a hospital.

"Haley _James!?_"

She throws herself at them, Haley and Peyton exchanging an amused look between them over Bevin's back. "You _guys!_"

Bevin pulls away, clapping giddily as she looks them over. "It's been_ years!_ What are you doing here? Oh my God, it's so good to see you guys!"

"You, too, Bevin," they both say genuinely.

Although they were in the same squad, they weren't close but Bevin was a nice girl. In comparison to Brooke, she was the more hyper of the two, which means that she was in her own league with the optimism and energy.

"I haven't seen you in _years_! Of course, I left town but _still!_"

She looks down at the takeaway bag in Haley's hands. "You went across the street? Good choice. Personally, the only good things in the cafeteria are the fruits."

She gasps. "Oh my God, Haley! You used to carry our cheering stuff, right? That was so crazy! Are you still married to Nate?"

Before she can respond, Bevin goes on. "You didn't divorce, did you? You made such a cute couple! Oh my God, you had a _baby_!" she giggles, slapping her own forehead, so hard that it must sting a little bit. "That was so weird seeing you in school when you were pregnant and then your stomach was so—"

Peyton speaks up. "Bevin!"

Bevin blinks, looking at Peyton as if suddenly noticing she's there.

"What have you been up to?" Peyton asks quickly, deflecting the conversation to something else.

Haley lets out an inaudible breath. Bevin had a habit of talking a mile a minute, her chatter jumping from thought to thought that sometimes it was hard to keep a track of everything.

It's like a zap goes through her and she's back to Energizer mode. "I was in Florida for beauty school and I just got back and I can't find a job and the only one was, like, at a _funeral home_…" She visibly blanches, sticking her tongue out. "So my dad told me about a vacancy and here I am at the hospital cafeteria. Sometimes I help the sick women with their makeup and stuff and some of them even call me when they leave here."

Bevin then leans in close, as if about to share something conspiratorial. "I saw Dan Scott at the cafeteria. Didn't he, like, _leave_?"

Without giving them a chance to answer, she goes on in the same excited tone, "Nate's mom, Lucas, Keith…"

Bevin frowns. "Come think of, it was like the _whole_ Scott family in one table." In a low whisper, she asks, "Did someone, like, _die_?"

Just like that, Haley's resolve is broken. The appalling horror, the fear of fears, has been nudged awake. "I-I have to go," she stammers, ready to bolt.

"Are you okay?" Bevin asks, her hand already reaching out to Haley.

With a tight smile, Haley nods, rushing towards the stairs instead of waiting any longer for the elevator.

* * *

><p>Unzipping the bag, Nathan pulls out the contents of the duffle one by one. He folds the small pile of Jamie's clean clothes, each with a hint of fabric softener, in a corner of the counter. The bath kit is tucked away beside them, along with the toothbrushes and toothpaste that Haley had thrown in for them.<p>

"Nathan?"

He pokes his head out of the bathroom doorway as Haley enters the room. "Hey."

"I got you something." She shakes the white bag at him, placing it on the trolley table.

"Thanks. You just missed Brooke. You didn't bump into each other on the elevator?"

"I took the stairs. Has anyone else been up?"

"No, but apparently my grandparents are in town," he says, walking back into the room.

"You haven't seen them?"

He shakes his head, pulling out the tall cup of coffee from the bag. "Brooke tells me that everyone is down at the cafeteria."

Her mouth puckers slightly in realization. "So that's what Bevin was talking about."

Nathan raises a brow, holding the cup over his lips. "Bevin? Cheerleader Bevin?"

She nods. "The one and only. I guess you didn't see her in the cafeteria yesterday."

"Guess so. Did you eat something?"

"Mmh," she answers noncommittally. "Something."

She could only manage to nibble on half of a jelly doughnut. Knowing expounding on it won't get them anywhere, Nathan says nothing, gulping down a large sip of the strong coffee.

"So, listen."

He looks at her suspiciously because odds are he won't like it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks, a hand reaching to touch her cheek. "Do I have something on my face?"

Placing the coffee cup on the trolley, he draws her gently by the elbow, away from the bed and into the bathroom. "Is someone stalking you? Jesus, who—"

"What? No one is stalking me. You're the one who is usually the object of some woman's craziness."

His eyes fall to her mouth, the tiny barely-visible scar on the curve of her bottom lip looking magnified in his vision.

The bastard marked her. He hurt her and left her with nightmares that lasted for about a month. And even after she had healed physically and emotionally from the attack, that small sliver was a reminder of what that shitbag had done. Nathan has lost count of the number of times he's wanted to drive to that hospital and kill a paralyzed man, especially when she shows subtle signs that the attack still affects her. Like flinching when he touches the scar on her abdomen.

It's not that she's a different person, but there was a tectonic shift to her treatment of strangers. Her smile may be warm when she's meeting a classmate or group member for the first time, but it's guarded. He talked her down from carrying a knife in her purse wherever she went; not a little penknife but an honest-to-God badass fighting knife with a wood handle that was tucked into a leather sheath.

She demonstrated the snug fit of her hand around the handle, gushing about the stainless steel skinner blade like a pro who knew her knives. He was beyond shocked to see her slicing at the air with it. His wife wasn't a fan of horror movies, yet here she was meditatively stabbing the air with a blade that would be used to skin a deer.

He would have blundered by yelling, "Are you crazy?! You can't have that around Jamie! He's always getting into your purse looking for your phone, and he will find that knife!"

But her spirit had been crushed on that horrific night. Insinuating that she was out of her mind for toting around a sword to protect herself would have been fucking stupid. So he reasoned _calmly_ about having it in her purse when Jamie would easily find it. She conceded, the knife finding a home in a box on top of their closet, and she signed up for an aggressive self-defense course.

"—tonight."

Mentally shaking out of the silent thoughts, he blinks slowly, his eyes drifting to Haley's. "Huh?"

"Honey," she says, smiling up at him. That look tells her that his mind had traveled to a different place. "You're exhausted. I can stay with Jamie tonight while you go home and rest."

He's thunderstruck. "What? No, I—"

"Nath—"

"I'm not going anywhere, Haley."

She takes his hand in both of hers. "Please do this for me. I know you're tired. You haven't slept enough since we got home and I'm afraid that you'll pass out from exhaustion at any moment. I need you here with me, okay?"

God forbid he collapses and winds up in the hospital, too. It's bound to drive her into throwing a pity party so heavy that it goes down in history.

One hand reaches for his cheek. "Just…just go home and sleep it off and you'll feel better tomorrow."

"I won't feel better tomorrow."

"You'll look better. You're way too tired, babe."

He shakes his head. "No. I'll stay, too."

A faint smile touches her lips. "We'll take turns staying with him, then. I'll be here tonight and you can stay tomorrow."

Her face tilts to the side, the hospital bed coming to view.

"We can't be there for him, Nathan, if we're both too tired to be there for him."

His silence tells her that he's mulling it over.

"I'll be fine. You on the other hand, don't look so good. Just do this for me, okay?" she pleads, her thumb running along the back of his hand. "Please."

"Are you sure?" he asks hesitantly, smoothing her hair.

"I'm sure. Peyton will be around later and she offered to drive you."

"Why do I feel like I'm being shuttled off to a play date?"

She chuckles at his exaggeration. "You're very important cargo, honey. I wouldn't leave you to the media hounds."

"They're still here?"

Haley nods. "Peyton saw a few of them lingering." For that reason, she had been the one to go across the street for the food.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They should just give up on this. I don't know what I'll do if someone starts throwing questions at me about my family like they're digging for dirt."

She loosens her hand from his, reaching to rub his back in an effort to relax him, and as usual, it works. "You'll just use the back like we did yesterday."

Sighing heavily, conceding defeat, he says, "Okay."

Grinning, she tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "Fantastic. This—"

"Nathan?" a soft voice whispers, the sound carrying around the room.

Turning his head and craning his neck to the side, Nathan sees a head of short grey hair poking through the partially open door. "Grandma, hi."

* * *

><p>They spend the rest of the day in hospital. Only two can be let into the room at a time while the rest sit in the waiting room.<p>

Karen drops in at noon with lunch for everyone, and sans Nathan and Haley, they all huddle in a corner of the cafeteria to eat. Conversation is light, everyone sharing about what they've been up to since the wedding. Brooke feels lost and left out, not knowing about most of what they're talking about, but Peyton is quick to fill her in.

As the afternoon drags on, Nathan finds himself in the maternity wing at some point, leaving Dan and Mary Jo with Jamie. Haley is in the waiting room with the rest of the family, and in a bid to stretch his legs, he takes the stairs to the seventh floor.

He walks down the corridor, remembering a time years ago when they spent several days on the same floor after Jamie was born.

Stopping at the nursery, he looks through the large heavy window to the bassinets lined side by side with babies wrapped in pink and blue.

He recalls slipping out of the hospital bed late that first night, careful so as not to wake a worn-out Haley who was snuggled beside him. It was quiet at that time of night, as if all the babies decided unanimously to give their mothers a few more hours of sleep before demanding for attention.

Every step shot a thrill through him as he approached the glass window, and thoughts about being a terrible father like his was to him were long gone. There was no way he was going to mess up his child, he vowed. A nurse was busy writing into a chart, and when she saw him, they exchanged a smile before she resumed her work.

His eyes eagerly traveled down the rows of bassinets with newborns sleeping peacefully and soundly until he saw his son. Without having to ask to see the identification bracelets around his small wrist and ankle, he knew it was him. He was cocooned in a blue blanket, a small white cap on his head, his pink flushed face peeking out. His little fist was curved against a cherubic cheek, his mouth pressed together as a tiny air bubble rested on his lips. Gazing down at him, all Nathan had thought was how beautiful he was. Never in a million years had he thought of being back in the hospital watching with bated breath as the same boy lay in a coma.

"Which one's yours?"

The voice wrenches him back to the present. Nathan faces the man, noting his lean build, a few inches shorter, older, disheveled and thinning hair, brown suit wrinkled in some spots, eyes shining with what is probably excitement.

"My second girl," the man grins proudly, pointing to a bassinet in the middle.

"Congratulations," Nathan says smoothly.

"I already have my hands full being ganged up on by my wife and daughter," the stranger chuckles. "It's gonna be one heck of a ride from here on out."

Nathan grunts softly in what could be translated to either mean agreement or solidarity. The man hesitates, and then asks, "Your first?"

Nathan shakes his head. "No."

His brow shoots up for a flash. "Second?"

He shakes his head again.

"Nephew? Niece? Godchild?"

Every question is met with a shake of the head. The man looks at Nathan steadily with mistrust, as though sizing him up for various felonies he may already have under his belt. "What are you doing here, then?" he asks accusingly.

"Just taking a walk," Nathan responds dryly.

The man plasters a hand on the glass, saying hotly, "At the nursery? Look, pal, this isn't a park."

It's amusing to Nathan how staunchly the man is standing his ground, like at any moment he may call security to alert them of a suspicious character in the maternity wing. He could just spill everything that's happening on the fifth floor but he's not that guy who shares openly with strangers. There are very few people in this world that he can be vulnerable around.

"You need to go," the man says through gritted teeth.

With the tiniest bit of a shrug, Nathan moves away slowly from the window and heads towards the elevator. A scenario where he's arrested on suspicion of kidnapping is really quite unnecessary.

* * *

><p>Haley studies her husband's sleeping form, the way he's slumped on his side in the chair, long legs bent at the knees, his head at such an awkward angle that he could wake up with a severe stiff and aching neck if he's like that a moment longer.<p>

She gets to her feet and circles the bed. She leans over him to stroke his cheek with the back of her hand. "Nathan."

He groans slightly, still asleep. Her knuckles slide gently along his face. "Baby, you need to wake up."

He stirs, his eyes opening slowly and then blinking up at her. Gently caressing his cheek, she whispers, "Hey, sleepyhead."

He takes a quick look around the room through half-open eyes. "What time is it?" he sleepily inquires.

"Almost eight. You should get going."

He passes a hand over his eyes, sliding it over his neck to rub the stiffness out. "Did everyone leave?"

"Yeah, but Peyton and Brooke are waiting for you."

"I feel like I'm ditching you," he says, his back aching as he pulls himself up in the chair. His gaze falls to the bed.

"You're not. I'll be fine. And I'll call you if…" She clears her throat. "It'll be fine, okay?"

"Okay," he says, although reluctantly.

Peyton sticks her head into the room. "Ready?"

Haley and Nathan share a glance, and then Nathan replies, "Yeah."

A hug, a kiss, exchanged I love you's, and he's gone.

"The television vans are gone so it's safe to use the front," Brooke says as they wait for the elevator.

"I wish they would just go away," he mumbles under his breath.

It's daunting and frustrating that they're being pestered by the media when there are other stories to tell. Stories that do not involve them, or their son, or this difficult time they're facing.

Haley was presumed dead when she was actually in a coma. He had brain surgery and fell into a coma. Together, they were in an aircraft that fell off the sky over the mountains of Montana. Their son is in a coma. It's one hell of a human interest story. It's a blessing in disguise that neither of them have cell phones to be barraged with incessant phone calls from the media, but it doesn't stop the fourth estate from calling the house.

"They'll find something or someone else to follow, Nate," Peyton reassures him as the elevator peals open.

"Like the other passengers from the plane, you mean?"

"Yeah. Are they still in Montana?"

"I think so. I haven't paid close attention to the news. Thanks for waiting, by the way," he tells the girls.

"No problem," Peyton replies. "We had to go by Tric first to meet with the contractor, anyway."

He raises a brow in question. "Are you expanding?"

Peyton throws Brooke a grin. "Something like that."

He looks from side to side between them. "What do you mean?"

"You tell him," Brooke says.

"No, you tell him."

"Tell me what?"

Brooke breaks into a wide smile. "We're building a studio!"

"An art studio?" he asks in confusion.

"A music studio! Recording and all that music mess!" Brooke answers giddily.

"Really? That's great. You must be pretty excited, Peyt," he says, throwing her a smile.

"I am," she beams proudly. "I'm thinking Haley should do the honour of debuting it when it's complete. Think she'll be up for it?"

With a slight shake of his head at Brooke when they make eye contact, Nathan looks down at the elevator buttons. It's premature of him to announce the potential move from Tree Hill when his wife barely has a clue as to his thoughts about their future.

"Of course."

The probable move is a while away and by then, Peyton's studio could already be complete for a recording session.

* * *

><p>The doctor will drop in later during his rounds, the nurse says before she disappears after checking Jamie's vitals. Haley fidgets in the chair, rubbing her forehead, fatigued. She moved the chair as close to Jamie as was possible, but it's not enough, considering the poles and equipment.<p>

Sitting this close next to him, it's hard not to want to reach for a blanket and tuck it around him. It's hard not to want to pile layer after layer of covers until he's warm again.

She chews slowly on two of the peanut butter cookies Peyton brought, washing them down with lukewarm coffee. She feels exhausted even after a short nap in the afternoon, but the strain of Jamie being like this trumps down on the weariness.

The ventilator whooshes in a pattern over her head, and strangely, it reminds her of last week when she and Jamie dropped by the café…

_The cappuccino machine was hissing when they walked in, the café bustling with the chatter of the lunch crowd._

_"I wanna find Lucy," Jamie said, pulling at her hand as they walked towards the counter._

_"Stay where I can see you," she told him, loosening her grip on his hand before he ran off._

_"Haley, hi!" Karen breezed past, her hands full with plates of food._

_"Hey. Need some help?"_

_"Could you?"_

_Like she'd never left, she handled the orders swiftly and efficiently, as if it was just one of her shifts back in high school. Before long, they had managed to appease and feed the customers. She sat at a corner table sipping on lemonade with the perfect blend of sugar and lemon. _

_"Mama, I think I want a car," Jamie said seriously as he took the seat beside her when he got hungry._

_With a little laugh, she stuck a straw in her glass and placed it in front of him, running her fingers through his hair. "You do?"_

_He took a long drink of the lemonade. "I do."_

_"What do you want with a car?" she prodded, too amused to smother a smile._

_"Go to school, go to the store, go to the River Court. You don't have to come get me in school, Mama."_

_"Really?"_

_He nodded vigorously, swinging his legs. "And I can come get you after you sing."_

_"You know how to drive?"_

_He thought about it for a moment. "I think so. Daddy showed me."_

_"He did?"_

_"Yes. Daddy did it with his feet and I did it with my hands. Can I drive today?"_

_"Why don't we eat first and then we'll talk about it. What do you feel like having?"_

_"A burger."_

_"And veggies?" she teased, picking the menu off the table._

_He made a face of disgust. "No. I ate peas last night. Please don't make me eat more veggies."_

_"But those were yesterday's veggies."_

_"I don't have to eat veggies today, Mama. I promise I'll eat tomorrow."_

_"You promise? Even if it's cauliflower?"_

_"Mama, yuck."_

_She laughed, and he'd gone on a lengthy rant on how yucky cauliflower tasted. After visiting with Peyton, the plan had been to pass by the café briefly and head back home for lunch and more unpacking. Instead, they'd ended up having a leisurely mother-son lunch together before Jamie got drowsy for his afternoon nap._

Her hand reaches for Jamie's, her fingers closing over his hand. The coldness of his makes her shiver. He was warm when the nurse placed him on her chest two seconds after he was born. It's so different now.

When she found that she was pregnant, Nathan had already left for High Flyers. She would have liked for them to spend some time together after their reconciliation at the beach, but she understood that he had to attend basketball camp. A week and a half after his departure, she took a pregnancy test. An hour after that, she was puking her guts out. Then she cried like the world was ending.

Right now, she realizes that the world didn't end that day when the stick turned blue. Right now, her world is ending, and she's crying for a different reason.

"I love you to pieces, Jame."

She starts to hum, a slow melody that she knows by heart from that first moment she sang it, a night where they spent hours trying to soothe him to sleep a few weeks after he was born. The soft melody is replaced with words, words she's always believed in and always hoped for him every time she sings them to him at bedtime, for him to always keep the starlight in his eyes.

Slowly, her body wins over her mind, the emotional exhaustion knocking her out as she sings softly, her last thought aimed at how loud the heart monitor is.

* * *

><p>Not making a move to grab his spoon, Nathan stares down at the bowl of chicken soup, watching it coagulate and turn into a glop that makes his stomach coil. He had no appetite for dinner earlier, and this is his mother's way of force-feeding him.<p>

Although filled with guests, the house leaves him feeling immensely lonely and alone. The two people who make any place feel like home are miles away.

"Need a drink?"

The sudden interruption startles him. Royal Scott hands him a half snifter of brandy and takes the seat alongside his. Pushing away the soup bowl and a side plate of grilled cheese sandwich, Nathan cups the glass in both hands, his eyes drifting to his grandfather's. "Thank you."

"You're old enough, aren't you?" Royal asks good-naturedly.

"No cigar?" Nathan counters with a small grin.

Royal chuckles softly, amiably. "One thing at a time, son."

Nathan moves his hands slowly in a circular motion, the amber liquid swirling slowly in the glass. It must be from Royal's personal stash because Allan and his mother don't typically stock alcohol in the house. The grandfather clock chimes softly, announcing the late hour. He has been home for four hours, the most activity being fielding calls from reporters, but due to the lack of peace of mind, sleep eludes him.

"Your grandmother and I have been taking computer classes," Royal states to break the moments of silence.

Nathan lifts his head from staring into the glass. "Oh, really? How's it going?"

With a snort, Royal takes a gingerly sip of his drink. "Whoever thought that the elderly need to learn how to use computers wanted us punished."

Nathan laughs, impressed with his grandmother's persuasion skills to get the ornery old man to participate in one of her classes. "It's not that bad," he says, touching the glass to his lips, daring himself to take a sip.

"Easy for you to say," his grandfather responds dryly. "At my age, I shouldn't be bombarded by so many buttons to simply send a greeting."

"But you know how to use a typewriter."

"A typewriter doesn't give you attitude."

And so they argue back and forth about the merits and demerits of old versus new forms of communication. In Nathan's conclusion, his grandfather is a zealot for letter writing to be introduced as a compulsory class right from nursery school. All he needs is a platform, and Nathan is curious how it will all play out when they cover blog writing in their class. In Royal's defense, he is simply putting up with technology because of his grandsons and great-grandson. The child has been born into a world where children as young as six are composing incomprehensible text messages to their arthritic grandparents instead of writing a postcard.

The conversation drifts to basketball, Royal asking about Nathan's current status with the NBA.

"I haven't committed to anyone yet," he replies sombrely, swallowing down a cough as the brandy travels down his throat, fiery and sharp. He's never gotten used to its taste, preferring beer as his poison of choice.

"How many offers have you had?" his grandfather prompts, quite proud of Nathan's achievement, a future that is sniffing at the doors of an NBA career.

Nathan takes another sip. "Last I checked, North Carolina, Montana, Illinois and Virginia."

That was almost a week ago. He was on his way to taking a tour of the Bulldogs when they crash landed into a lake. And when they got out of that mess, they found an even worse mess at home with their son in a coma after a near-drowning in the ocean.

"Who are you leaning more towards?"

Nathan takes another burning sip. "I don't know," he answers truthfully.

College ball was gruelling and it toughened him up, but it can't parallel to the NBA. Days ago, he was ready to tackle pro ball. If he had been compelled to choose where he wanted to play, he would have said North Carolina without blinking an eye. Today, tonight, it's who the hell knows.

Royal steals a sideways glance at his grandson. Clearly, he is preoccupied with more pressing matters than basketball, and he's rather vague about his future in the professional circuit. "It's going to be alright, son," assures the grandfather in his deep burr, and an easy smile.

As usual, Nathan is rattled whenever Royal smiles like that. Such smiles that reach his deep-set blue eyes are rare from the ex-Marine, a man who carefully reins in emotion, unless someone angers him. He's quick to irritation and anger. It runs in the family.

Dropping his gaze, Nathan rakes a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. "I hope so."

"Everything will turn out just fine. You'll see."

He doesn't know what else to say but a quiet thanks.

Pushing back his chair, Royal tosses back the last of his brandy, pats Nathan's shoulder, gives it a squeeze, and then leaves the kitchen. Nathan, placing the snifter on the counter, presses the heels of his hands to his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing nerves that are hurting his brain. He doesn't care about anything else right now other than Jamie getting better.


	16. Chapter 16

Her next conscious thought is of hearing someone moving about the room.

Slouched uncomfortably in the chair, Haley turns her head, wincing at the soreness everywhere, mainly her neck. Bleary-eyed, her gaze falls on the small figure, and if she didn't know better, she would be reaching over to wake him up for breakfast. She watches his chest closely, seeing it rise and fall slowly, and it's reassuring that he is still…here.

"Morning."

Groggily, she uncurls herself from the chair, grimacing at the heaviness in her head and the numbness in her arm. She meant to move to the cot, but she liked being close to Jamie. She squints sleepily against the day's brightness, feeling the warmth of the sun soaking up the room.

"Morning, Deb. I didn't expect you this early."

Her mother-in-law smiles and points to two tall orders of takeaway coffee. "I was wide awake at four. I brought you a latte."

"Thank you. My parents didn't badger you, did they?"

"No," she chuckles. "It was a very quiet night. How are you feeling?"

Kneading the back of her neck, Haley can feel her stiff bones loosening up as she straightens. "Is it okay if I said old?"

Deb laughs quietly. "No offense taken."

Rising from the chair, Haley bends down to kiss Jamie's cold cheek. "Morning, sweetie," she murmurs softly against his skin. Her little love.

She pulls away from him with misty eyes, sweeping her fingers over his cheek once more. She draws her hands over her head to stretch, her bones cracking at the movement. "Wow. I think I need more calcium."

Holding out the cup to her, Deb chuckles again. "You can start with this traditional wake up call."

After downing half the latte, Haley stumbles into the bathroom to freshen up. The doctor is examining Jamie when she walks out, muttering to himself as usual. She's rather soft on his eccentricity.

"Good morning, Dr. Harris," she greets him, standing a foot away from the bed beside Deb.

He looks gargantuan hovering over Jamie's small body. "Good morning, Mrs. Scott," he responds without looking up, the tiny flashlight poised over one of Jamie's eyes.

Deb takes Haley's hand in a comforting grip, Haley offering a grateful smile in return.

"Well," says the doctor, straightening up, "his temperature has been decreasing at an average of zero-point-six degrees every hour."

"Is that good?" Deb asks quietly.

He nods. "At this time, it's premature to declare him better but we hope for a good outcome."

"But the fact that his temperature is lower is a good sign, right?" Haley prods hopefully.

The doctor pauses a moment before speaking. "You need to understand that every patient is different. Your son may have a better chance as opposed to someone who had a severe heart attack or a traumatic brain injury, but it doesn't mean that the heart attack patient will never recover. But in comparison to patients with major traumas, your son has an eighty percent chance of not encountering adverse effects."

He's being gentle explaining it like that, but the impression of what he's said is like a cold breeze sweeping over Haley. The terror claws at her heart.

"What's the other twenty? Him dying?" she asks solemnly.

"Yes," Dr. Harris answers simply, hooking his stethoscope around his neck, his fingers reaching to scratch at his beard. "There have been significant improvements in many patients who have undergone this treatment. Medicine is quite advanced, Mrs. Scott. Since the initial trial treatments, the hypothermic program has had promising results in pediatric brain injuries and heart attacks. It has been quite the beneficial treatment."

He gives her a reassuring smile. "I wouldn't have suggested this procedure if it was not the best course of treatment. I assure you that we have had remarkable success with it in our hospital and this treatment plan could be what saves your son's life."

Haley's shoulders sag with some relief. She doesn't tire of hearing him reassure her.

* * *

><p>Following a shower, Haley leans on the doorway of the airy living room, watching him as he taps away on the keys of the laptop.<p>

"What are you thinking about?" he asks without looking up.

There's a small smile playing on her lips as she strolls into the room. She sits beside him on the big sofa and leans her head on his shoulder. He kisses her forehead, the scent of her shampoo carrying under his nose. "Morning."

"Morning," she responds, placing a kiss on his shoulder. "How was your night?"

"Okay. I missed you, though."

She kisses his shoulder again. "I missed you."

"Coffee's ready if you want some."

Haley sighs, thinking of making hot chocolate in place of taking coffee. It hasn't been helping very much since they came home, making her agitated and on high alert.

"How is he?" Nathan asks.

"His temperature is at thirty-three."

He turns to her. "That's great, isn't it? The plan was thirty-two, right?"

She repeats the conversation with the doctor, answering his questions as best as she can. "One more day to get it lower and then he can be warm again."

"Yeah," he breathes. For the thousandth time, he wonders whether Jamie will remember any of it, if he can hear what is going on around him.

While in his coma, voices were distant, like they were talking while submerged in water. In that oblivion and nothingness, sometimes he could discern what was being said out there in the living world, sometimes he couldn't. What bothered him was that he could not make out Haley's voice in any of them for the longest time. When he finally did, the fact that she and Jamie continuously begged him to wake up was pure torture in his dreamlike state.

They sit like that in the silence of the house for a few minutes until Haley asks, "What are you doing?"

His fingers fly across the keyboard, forefingers placed expertly on the F and J. "Replying to emails. Mark said hi, by the way."

"Is he enjoying Denmark?"

He grins. "A lot."

"The women?"

"The women."

The former Blue Devils captain opted for a pro basketball career in the European league rather than the States.

Propping her chin on his shoulder, she simply takes in her husband's profile. He looks better than yesterday, but still exhausted. The weariness is in his sunken-looking eyes, his sallow skin and the tenseness of his muscles. His forehead is creased up with worry lines, and fatigue seems to have settled in him.

Seeing him like that is so frightening that her eyes burn with tears, and she gulps and blinks feverishly against their pending bitter arrival. It's too early for crying. More for herself than for him, her fingertips brush on his warm arm in comfort. "Any teams?"

Instead of answering, he realigns the laptop slightly to show her the screen.

"All those?" she exclaims as her eyes scan the screen, noting the email addresses.

"All those. I should call the coaches back to acknowledge receipt or something."

"Baby, this is amazing," she says proudly, rubbing her hand on his arm and giving it a squeeze. "Oh my God, this is so great! We need to find you an agent or something, right?"

"Right," he sighs, as if defeated.

She sits up straighter, taking the laptop from his hands and placing it on the coffee table before turning his face towards hers. "Aren't you happy?"

Nathan closes his eyes, his jaw tensing beneath her fingers. "I am."

Haley runs her knuckles along his chin and jawbone, trying to ease some of the tension rolling off of him. "But what? Nathan, what is it?"

He places his hand over hers where it lays on his cheek. He rubs his thumb along her wrist as his gaze flicks over her face. The sorrow and fatigue in her eyes hits him like a club. "I don't think I can do it, Hales."

Worry mars her pretty face. "Do what?"

"Basketball. I can't think of that right now."

She doesn't need to ask the reason behind his thinking. She tucks her legs under her, turning to him and resting her hands on the sides of his face. She presses her lips to his cheek tenderly as her fingers move into his hair.

"We'll be there for your first game, Nathan. Wherever it will be," she says softly with conviction. "Both of us."

She puts her finger lightly on his lips before he can speak. "You have a shot at making your dreams come true, baby. You have worked too hard to let this chance go. There's plenty of time for Jamie to wake up and when he does, he'll be asking us to find his earmuffs for him to come see you play."

Haley slides her mouth over his, their mingled taste of coffee and minty toothpaste an intoxicating sweetness invading her senses. "I am very, very proud of you, honey, and I know that Jamie is, too. You know we have your back wherever it is you decide to play and we would never ever want you to stop going after your dreams when something happens to us," she says quietly.

He pushed her to continue singing with the band last year after his accident. He told her not to put her dreams on hold for him, and she listened. Smiling to ease his conflict, her fingers smooth back his hair. "It will get better, Nathan. Come basketball season, everything will be better."

She truly believes it. After what happened to him last year, she believes that things work out eventually. After what has happened to them over the years, she firmly believes in things getting better. It will be dark for a while, for a week or several months, but dawn will break.

"You are one hell of a woman, Haley James," he says in a low tone.

"I didn't say anything extraordinary."

"Yes, you did."

Weaving his fingers through the damp strands of her hair, he draws her face to his. Their warm lips brush over each other's in a feathery soft kiss. Deepening the kiss, Haley shifts on the cushions to sit up on her knees, her arms moving to circle his neck. He slides his hand along her spine to rest on the small of her back, and he holds her closer.

"Oh."

They're startled apart as they both turn to look at Allan over the couch, an awkward silence hanging in the air. Nathan's fingers are twisted in Haley's hair while the other is frozen under her top, with Haley half-lying half-straddling him. It's not like they're teenagers caught doing debauch things on the couch, or that it's the first time they've been caught. Nevertheless, it has always been uncomfortable the few times it's happened.

Allan is the first to react, giving them a grin and a little wave with the newspaper before he heads into the kitchen. With a hollow hoot of laughter, Nathan untangles his fingers from her hair and leans back from their embrace. "Are you telling me that we did not hear him open _and_ close the front door?"

Haley fumbles to straighten her top, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Mixed in there is a burn all over her body, evidence of the physical attraction they've always had. "I can't believe that we…what if it were your grandparents?"

They get too carried away sometimes. They sit contentedly for a minute until Nathan speaks up. "I want to talk to you about something."

Leaning her elbow on the back of the couch, she twists around to face him. "What?"

His eyes probe hers calmly. "Pacific Division."

"Pacific—" She grasps what he's saying, her eyes widening some. "West Coast? You don't want to play around here anymore?"

"I'm tired of this shit trail of hard luck in North Carolina. Jamie isn't even five and he's been through way too much. Five, Hales. It's traumatizing thinking about what could happen in another year."

She understands.

"Would you want to move?" he asks cautiously.

"You have an offer?" she inquires.

"Two. California and Nevada. D-League."

She chews on the inside of her bottom lip thoughtfully.

It's a big step. They would be leaving their hometown behind for a new life across the country. They would have to say goodbye to what they've known for what they don't know. Start over.

"Nothing is definite but they've shown interest," he continues.

Her teeth are now peeking out as she chews down on her lip, rationalizing and planning. Isn't that one of the beauties of life, adventures and fresh starts and all that? After all, she can teach anywhere. The benefits surpass the cons; Nathan gets a chance to play for a team he's excited about, and they all get a sort of new beginning.

He brushes his fingers across her skin, bringing her back. "There are hundreds of music studios out in the West Coast and we could find the perfect one for you when you want to make your music. The climate is warmer and we don't have to dress in layers when it gets cold. And plus…plus, it's like taking an adventure when we get there. Scratch that. Adventure is overrated at this point for me. We can play it safe. We can just relax and soak in the sun, as long as we wear sunscreen. I didn't really think about the extent of the sun out there, though," he rambles like she's fond of doing.

Breathing out loudly, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "What do you think? Would you be up for it? If you don't want to, we can—"

She cuts him off with a hard kiss, pulling him closer by cupping the back of his head with her hand. "Yes."

"Yes."

Nodding, she gives him a quick kiss. If she thinks about it too much, she'll have more reservations about moving from the long list of why they should not leave.

"Are you sure?"

He's thrilled that she's agreeing to it, but he wants to be sure that she wants this, too. She nods. Other than leaving all they've ever known, it wouldn't hurt starting elsewhere.

"I go where you go, Nathan Scott."

He gives her a long kiss. "Someday, Haley James, I will follow you to Alaska for a teaching job. Or a year-long concert."

Haley laughs, a deep giddy laugh. "That would be very kind of you. I'd need my personal heater up there, for sure."

Another kiss.

"It would be my pleasure. And this time, we'll get a house. A house with a yard for Jamie to play in. I'll even put up that porch swing you've always wanted. Well, we can find someone to put it up."

"Sounds really nice," she chuckles.

And then she grins proudly. "Rookie of the Year."

Nathan laughs, pulling her close, kissing the top of her head. "You think so?"

"I know so."

His game is a languid mixture of talent and skill, his moves on the court making plays look effortless. He's worked hard to get to this point and she's determined to make his dreams come true. She doesn't see it as a sacrifice on her part; she simply loves him.

* * *

><p>"Hales, are you—"<p>

She's seated on the staircase, her head bent over. Nathan leans the blue child-size bag on a leg of the foyer table and plants himself a step below her.

"What is it? Did something…" His words trail off with uneasiness.

She shakes her head and instead of speaking, she passes him a small, yellow, rectangular package. Pulling out its contents, admiration crosses his face. "Is this…"

"Yes."

"It looks amazing."

"I know," she sniffs. "You remember how excited Jamie was when I told him about it?"

"How can I forget? He mentioned it to the team whenever he came by the court."

"He was happier about it than I was, and each time, I was really doing it more for him than for myself. Now it's here and he's—"

She draws out a shaky breath, her head dropping to between her bent knees. He moves a step higher, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Remember what you told me an hour ago?"

She lifts her face, touching her thumbs to the corners of her eyes. "What?"

"Are you losing your marbles already?" he teases, making her laugh. "There's plenty of time for Jamie to wake up, Hales. When he does, it will get better."

She's nodding, her trembling lips pressed together. "I-I just get so scared that something terrible will happen and he—"

Nathan rubs his hand on her back in a comforting circular motion. "We can't think like that, Haley."

"It's so terrifying when I think about it, Nathan. I worry that while we're here, the phone will ring and…and…"

She tears up, the thought of Jamie being gone too petrifying and agonizing.

"It's not going to happen," he says with confidence. He refuses to think about the worst case scenario. "We may have a pattern of being in fucked up situations that can only be found in a daytime soap opera script but look at us. We survived it. You came back from the dead, for fuck's sake."

She smiles shakily, blinking against the wetness in her lashes. "I-I did, didn't I?"

"Like hell you did. And here I am after being in a coma for what, three months? And here we are after surviving a plane crashing into a lake in the middle of nowhere. We're pretty solid here, Hales. We're just constantly proving to the big guy upstairs that we're not to be taken lightly."

She laughs softly. His arms enfold her.

"That boy we have? He's a fighter, too," he whispers in her ear, hugging her tightly and stroking her hair.

She takes several slow breaths before she lifts her head to look up at him. "Thank you."

He touches his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. "Together, right?"

"Always."

"I set up the booster seat in your car," Lucas says, standing in the open doorway, his back to them as he looks out towards the parking bay. "I swear I'm taking your mom along when I go car shopping. Or can she just adopt me to give me a graduation gift like that?"

He's whistling lowly as he turns around, taken aback when he sees Haley. His cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Hey, Hales," he says shyly.

"Hey, Lucas," she replies, amused. "Wouldn't Peyton go insane if you traded your classic muscle car for a used SUV?"

"She'd probably deny she knows me if I took her out in it. You guys okay?" he asks, looking back and forth between them.

Haley nods, freeing her arms from around Nathan's waist. "Yeah. What brings you by?"

He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, his face turning grim. "I came over to bring Jamie's stuff."

"What stuff?"

"When we went to the beach," he says quietly.

"Oh."

She smiles to ease his nervousness. "Thank you."

With a hand on Nathan's shoulder, she stands, stretching herself tall and leaning against the banister. "You want some coffee?"

"No, thanks. I have to go meet up with the principal."

"What pri—" Haley then claps giddily. "You got the job? That's great, Luke!"

She walks down the steps to give him a hug. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

Stepping away from him, she gives him a playful swat on the shoulder. "Better watch out for those girls, teach."

Lucas laughs softly, looking over her head at Nathan. "Your husband said the same thing."

In mock shock, Haley turns to look at Nathan. "Did you hear that? He called you my husband."

Nathan's face beams with equal amusement. "I think he's slowly arriving at the acceptance stage."

Haley laughs lightly. "Took him a while, though."

"About six years."

Lucas scowls, snaking his arm around Haley's shoulders affectionately. "Very funny, guys."

"It really is," she replies through a quiet laugh.

"Lucas," Nathan says, leaning his elbows on the stairs. "You know how we've talked about you getting cozy with my wife as you wish?"

"Nathan, you know how we've talked about you getting cozy with my best friend when I'm around?"

Haley shakes her head slightly, her foot on the bottom step of the stairs. "As much as I enjoy watching you two show off your feathers, I need to grab some things before we go."

"Just so you know, my feathers would destroy yours," Lucas smirks after Haley's gone, sitting beside his brother.

"Please don't bring up that one-on-one game."

"Remember how you got served during that one-on-one game? Remember?"

"Remember the thirty bucks you borrowed back in senior year?"

"I don't like this game."

* * *

><p>"No coffee today?" Peyton asks, looking at Haley's drink.<p>

"I'm quitting for a while," she replies, holding the large Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate in both hands and facing her friend over the rim.

"Keeping you up?"

"More like making me edgy and twitchy."

"Haven't you always been twitchy?" Peyton remarks with a teasing smile.

"Ha, ha."

"I think the only edible things here are the cookies," Brooke says, taking a seat on the small round table by a window in the cafeteria.

Peyton reaches for one of the blue packages. "Oreos?"

"Exactly. I'd rather chew on a toy than eat whatever version of eggs they have there."

"That's very astute of you," Peyton drawls sarcastically. "Chewing on a toy over eating horribly cooked eggs."

Brooke punches her arm, followed by a quick roll of the eyes. "Remind me again why we're still friends?"

"I saved your butt from a bully in second grade."

"Is that what you've been telling people? I'm the one who saved your skinny butt, Peyton Sawyer."

"I've gained weight, Brooke."

"You're the pencil you've always been. Haley, tell her."

"Haley, don't tell me. Look who's talking. Doesn't New York have food? Or was it D.C.?"

Setting the cup back on the table, Haley smiles warmly at their teasing conversation. She feels nostalgic for those days in high school when they saw each other daily, making plans to do something after school or simply sit somewhere and catch up.

"I really missed you guys."

They stop talking, their heads swinging in her direction.

They both chorus in a croon, "We missed you, too."

"Jamie will be excited to see you, Brooke," Haley says brightly. "He asks a lot about you."

"He does?"

"Why wouldn't he? He knows that you've been dressing him since he was in diapers."

"That long?" Brooke asks with a laugh.

"He likes to hear about where you are, too. Have you noticed a pattern in the drawings he sends to you?"

"It's always about one of the places I've visited."

"Exactly. He'll ask me to find him a picture of the city you called from and then he'll redo it with crayons. Be prepared for him to be glued to your side when he wakes up."

There is a momentary silence that Haley interrupts, uncomfortable with her friends' sympathetic gazes.

"So," she says, folding her hands on the table and leaning forward, "who's going to tell me more about this studio?"

Peyton is explaining her marketing plan when Haley hears someone call her name. At first, she pays no attention to it, thinking it's her imagination. The voice repeats her name, and it sounds much closer.

"Haley?"

She turns slightly in her seat to cast a look over her shoulder. The brunette is standing three feet away from the table, in dark jeans, a white blouse dotted with pink flowers, and sandals. A thin pink headband decorates her braided hair.

"Hi," she says, smiling.

Caught off guard, Haley blinks to make sure that she's seeing right. She rises from her seat, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Rebecca! Hi!"

Rebecca lets out that husky laugh, taking the few short steps towards Haley and enveloping her in a hug. "I did think it was you! How are you?"

"I'm okay. How are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good. It's wonderful to see you!" Rebecca stands back from the hug. "Of all the gin joints and all that. What happened to you? You just disappeared!"

"We had to get home," Haley answers with a wan smile.

"Everything okay?"

Brooke clears her throat a few times. Haley turns towards her friends apologetically. "Sorry! Um, Brooke, Peyton, this is Rebecca. We were planewrecked together. Rebecca, these are my friends, Brooke and Peyton."

Rebecca smiles brightly at them as they shake hands. "Nice to meet you. Did she tell you that her husband was one of the guys who got us outta there?"

"No, she did not," Peyton says, throwing Haley a questioning look.

"And neither did he," Brooke adds.

"It didn't really come up," Haley explains weakly. Her friends nod understandingly, while Rebecca feels nervous by the oddness of their behaviour.

"Um, would you like to sit with us?" Haley inquires, pointing to the empty chair.

Rebecca's eyes scan their faces. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Peyton says, pulling out the chair.

Dropping in her seat, Haley asks, "When did you get back?"

"Yesterday. Patty and Molly will be so glad to see you."

"How are they?"

"Immobile, but they're doing okay. I was coming to pick them up, actually."

"They're here? In the hospital?"

"Yup. They convinced me to be their concierge for the summer."

"With those two, it will be nothing short of eventful."

They laugh together, Rebecca saying, "Tell me about it. It's a good thing that they're so sweet. I'm actually going to be living with—"

"You have such a gorgeous skin colour," Brooke blurts. She is enamoured, yet she's been around fashion models of different races and ethnicities. However, she's never truly spoken to any one of them, other than speedy instructions of what to wear and how quickly they should change.

They all turn to her, watching as she realizes what she said. "I just think that you're really pretty. What's your heri—"

"Brooke!" Peyton condemns, snatching away Brooke's hand before it reaches to touch Rebecca's shoulder. "Seriously?"

"Ouch! Shit!"

"What is wrong with you?" Peyton hisses.

"Nothing. Don't deny it, Peyton, when you were also wondering."

"She just met us, Brooke."

Rebecca laughs, amused by Brooke's forwardness. "I actually think you're being polite. A guy once called me racially fuzzy on our first date. Hand to God."

They all blink at her, Haley muttering, "I hope you didn't go out with him again."

"I could have let it slide, but he kept bringing up my ethnicity in a weird way. And to answer your question, Brooke, I'm multiracial. A quarter of this and that. My father was Irish and Native American, and my mother's Icelandic and Spanish."

"You don't hear that often."

"Good God," Peyton snarls. Sometimes she honestly becomes affronted by her friend's candour.

"I can't help it if I'm curious. If I were a photographer, I'd definitely use you for a lotion commercial or something."

Peyton groans, turning to Rebecca. "I'm sorry for her embarrassing behaviour. She forgets that not everyone should be treated like us."

"Like us?" Rebecca asks with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow.

"A criminal under interrogation."

"Have a cookie and stop being so dramatic, Peyton. All I said were nice, complimentary things that you didn't have the guts to say."

"I can't believe you. How many times have I told you to keep things to yourself around guests?"

"I think I can see traces of Patty and Molly in your friends," Rebecca tells Haley quietly from the corner of her mouth, who grunts out a low laugh. "Are they usually like this?"

"Sometimes they're worse. But it's harmless."

"Cool. I gotta ask." Her gaze falls to Haley's t-shirt. "Haley's Comet? Any connection?"

Haley pulls at the end of her t-shirt. "Oh. I, um, I was in a band back in college."

They had a good, successful run, but they made the decision to break up when nearly everyone was graduating and moving out of state. Only Emma and Susie were juniors, and they couldn't carry the band alone.

"You've had quite the busy life, haven't you?" Rebecca says with admiration.

A little laugh passes Haley's lips as she reclaims her cup. "Thought I'd start early. Hey, are you okay? Did you need to be admitted?"

"Lots of sleep, an IV bag and a hearty meal did the trick for me."

"Your mom?" Haley asks tentatively in a quiet whisper.

Rebecca shrugs. "I haven't seen her give me so much attention since my dad died."

"I'm sorry," Haley says genuinely, although her heart is hammering hard in her chest at the mention of the disastrous word.

"It was a long time ago. What surprised me is that she actually cried." She seems to give a little shudder. "It was bizarre and touching at the same time. Anyway, what about you? What are you doing here? You left so abruptly." A frown creases Rebecca's forehead. "Did you fall sick?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Nathan?"

Head bowed down, Haley rubs at her weary eyes with her thumb and middle finger. "He's okay. Jamie…"

Keeping her cool, throat tight, every word sounds more ominous as it leaves her lips.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry," Rebecca says in shock, squeezing Haley's arm warmly after she's done explaining the situation.

"Thank you," Haley says softly, blowing out a long breath. She then gulps down the last of her drink. "I hate to drink and dash, but I actually have to go," she says, pushing back her chair and reaching for the bottle of water sitting in the middle of the table. "Nathan's waiting for this."

"Yeah. Of course. We should hang out."

"I'd really like that, Rebecca Rose Riley," Haley says with a smile, leaning over to hug her again before getting up.

Rebecca takes out a pen and notebook from her bag, scribbling and ripping out a paper before passing it to Haley. "Call me if you need anything. I'm yet to replace my cell phone but I should be connected by week's end."

"Thanks. I'll call you for a chat," Haley smiles, slipping the paper in her pocket. "Say hi to Patty and Molly for me?"

"I will. Same goes for Nathan."

She nods, turning to Brooke and Peyton, who are no longer throwing jabs at each other but talking in quiet tones as they chomp on the Oreos. "I'll see you guys later?"

"Mphm," Peyton nods around a mouthful of cookie.

"Play nice, Brooke Davis," she teases with a finger wave before turning away.

"I always play nice. So, Rebecca, are you a model?"

* * *

><p>"I hope you're not about to—Oh. Hi."<p>

"Hello, Haley."

"Hi, Dan."

Her eyes look around the room quickly.

"He went to speak with the doctor," Dan explains, shifting in the chair.

She nods, claiming her usual seat and placing the bottle of water at the bedside table. Silence ensues, but it doesn't bother any of them. Their conversations are usually brief, and either Jamie or Nathan is around when they do talk.

Taking the padded yellow package from the bedside table, Haley shakes it out, the CD dropping onto her lap. "Guess what I got you today, Jame?"

She rips the plastic covering carefully, admiring the artwork on the case. Simple yet electric. Peyton really did a beautiful job.

"Remember the CD we were making on those days you came with me?"

Dan sits quietly in his chair, watching her as she speaks softly to the comatose child.

She pulls out the disc, inserting it into the portable player. "I promised we'd listen to it together when it came out. Well, I got it today and you know I like to keep my promises to you."

She skips over the first few tracks until she gets to the one she's looking for. "I think you'll like this one."

The opening tune of the song plays through the speakers, her voice flowing over lyrics of blue eyes full of wonder. Her eyes are tearing up as she takes Jamie's cold hand, remembering the night she wrote the song for him. "Can you hear it, baby?"

Nathan was still in a coma and there had been a thunderstorm that night. She left for the store, coming home to find him scared, scared of the thunder, scared that she'd also wind up in hospital like Nathan. Her heart was shredding as his small body trembled in her arms.

"Is that the album he told me about? The one you were working on?" Dan asks tentatively.

He's thoroughly discomfited by her blatant affection, her manner uncaring that there's someone else still in the room. Until he mended bridges with Nathan and began spending time with Jamie, he was not a demonstrative man. Displays of affection and tenderness towards people, particularly in public, made him uncomfortable. Jamie, however, is an affectionate kid. He likes to hold Dan's hand, hug him, and as much as it made him uncomfortable at first, he eventually warmed up to it. He must have gotten it from his parents, and Dan was actually surprised at Nathan's easy warmth for his son when Dan raised him in the reverse way.

The back of her index finger runs along Jamie's cheek, along his jaw, past the beauty spot that's a mirror image of her own. "Yes. The sample came in the mail today."

"Sounds good."

She nods, not looking at him because of her tear-filled eyes. "Thank you. He likes this one the most."

The music continues to play softly, soothingly, the track ending and leading to the next.

"When your plane went missing…"

That gets her attention and she fixes her eyes on his, the tears in hers making him feel anxious and sympathetic. No matter how genial and affable he's been in the past year towards her, she is determined not to start wailing like a banshee in front of him.

"Does he withdraw like that?"

She mulls it over for a while, brushing away the tears that have slipped down her cheeks. "Yes. It takes him a while to talk about what he's feeling."

By the time he'd revealed how guilty he felt for Nathan's accident, it had really eaten him up. Convincing him that it wasn't his fault had taken a while, and seeing him cry about it had been too painful to bear.

Her head tilts to the side in question. "Deb told me that Nathan was the same."

His silence tells her that he really doesn't know. He always ignored Nathan's silences and withdrawals, finding them as weakness, nuisances and childish behaviour. It's no wonder he emancipated himself.

The look of desolation on Dan's face tells her that he's in deep thought. It's strange that she's just noticing how his brow furrows and curves exactly the same way as Nathan and Lucas' when they're pondering something. It's also strange that this is the most of something poignant that she's shared with her father-in-law, even after he saved her that night.

Her heart rate spikes like it does when Sam Cregg's face emerges from the recesses of her mind. Sometimes she's transported to that night and she still hears his rageful voice. She barely knew the man, and he had ended up giving her a beating that she will never forget. It shocked her so much in the aftermath that it took at least a week for her brain to fully catch up to the fact that she had been hurt and almost ended up dead. Almost, had it not been for Dan.

She blinks and looks up to smile at her father-in-law. She will never be grateful enough for his part in it, and all she could do was invite him into Jamie's life. She leans back in the chair and closes her eyes, listening to the music and hoping that her boy hears it, too.

* * *

><p>"You know, I'd find Haley waiting here when I'd pick her up from physio," Nathan says as he takes a seat on the bench beneath the sycamore tree.<p>

"Before or after you had to supervise her sessions?" Lucas asks, leaning his elbows on the back of the bench. He stretches out his legs, crossing an ankle over the other, his bandaged foot in plain sight.

"Before and after. Something about the waiting room being depressing."

"It really is."

Wiggling his fingers as he reclines in the seat, Nathan says, "I really needed to stretch my legs."

"Doctor say everything's on track?"

"Yeah. He said that Jamie's temperature is low enough to be agreeable."

Lucas takes a sideways glance at his little brother as he speaks, not oblivious to his great sadness. He scoffs at himself for thinking of a family man as 'little.' It startles him when he realizes just how much of a grownup Nathan Scott has become, a far cry from the bratty boy that was a pain in the ass before they called a truce. Before Haley.

As opposed as he was to Haley dating Nathan, there was no denying the fact that Nathan made her happy; he revealed a side of her that he'd never seen while they were growing up. She, in turn, changed Nathan. Gone were the jackass comments and spiteful behaviour, replaced by a friendly guy who actually wanted to be friends with the bastard stepbrother. The first time he referred to himself as 'stepbrother' with Nathan was June eleventh, a date he can't forget because Haley and Nathan laughed their way through telling him that they'd gotten married the previous night. He thought they were crazy, or pulling a prank on him, but they weren't. The matching wedding rings on their fingers, the touching and the giggles slashed those thoughts to pieces. It took him a minute and more to recover from the shock, and with nervous humour, he grabbed Haley in a hug, stammering about his joy that he was a stepbrother-in-law; all the while feeling like the world had somehow shifted and aliens were making sixteen-year-olds get married. Nathan reprimanded him for it, saying that they were beyond the distasteful title, that they were family, which led Haley to tears, making Lucas even more nervous. It got more awkward for him when they became affectionate as Nathan comforted her, and it jarred him just how gentle his tough brother was with his best friend. It still jarred him when they did that around him.

"Are you also going to apply for the assistant coaching position, Teacher Scott?" Nathan asks, angling his head back slightly to catch some rays. It's awfully cold in Jamie's hospital room…

"I'm not teaching kindergarten to be Teacher Scott," he laughs. "And yeah, I could see myself coaching. I know I haven't played in a while but I know a lot about the game."

Nathan stretches his arms above his head, his bones snapping. "You should apply. You've racked up a lot of knowledge about it since you were what, seven?"

"Yep," Lucas grins. "Whitey said it's good enough when I asked him about it."

"Is he back?"

"Not yet. Next week, I think."

"Hey, not to freak you out or anything," Nathan drawls, "but you really should be prepared to hold off teenage girls. I've said it before and I'll say it again."

Lucas breaks out into a bellow. "You just freaked me out again."

"Seriously, Luke. Haley roped me into watching some movie about a psycho student who made her teacher's life a living hell just because he said no to her."

"Fiction."

"Based on a true story."

"O-kay. I think you should be separated from Haley for a while. She's ruined you, and now you're ruining me."

"You're a young, high school English teacher. And you're not bad looking. Of course they'll come after you. I really don't want to read about my brother getting accused of messing around with a minor."

"Fucking shit, Nate."

"Be careful, that's all I'm saying. Stop blushing, will you?"

"I'm not blushing!"

Sometimes it can be hard to tell who the older one is between the two.

"Yes, you are. You know how I can tell? The tip of your nose gets all pink. Which is a very weird trait. It looks like a growing zit right—"

"Don't fucking touch me!"

"Fine, fine. Am I going to be the best man?"

"What?"

"Best man. At your wedding. I heard you're affianced now."

"Who told you?"

"Does it matter? I'm happy for you, man."

"I didn't think it would be the best time to share."

"It's a shitty time but we would have been happy for you, Luke. I am happy for you, alright? Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"It's not one of those long engagements, is it? I'd like to be there to see you fumble over your vows."

"Of course you'll be there. Why wouldn't you be?"

"Nothing. So when is it?"

"Peyton wants to wait a while. Get the studio running. She doesn't want to be too preoccupied with other things and turn into a weddingzilla."

"You're already hopeless. Bridezilla, Luke, not weddingzilla. Haley certainly had her moments before ours."

"I do remember the frantic midnight phone calls."

"I'd warned you not to forget about confirmation of the flowers. Did I tell you that she cried when you told her you missed the appointment? She had this theory that you were sabotaging the wedding because you were holding a grudge and didn't want us to get married."

"Me? Sabotage? I overslept and completely forgot about that meeting!"

"That's not the way she saw it. I was this close to saying she was crazy before I realized that it would have made things worse."

"Sleeping on the couch worse?"

"Oh, yeah. So groom to groom, step it up with Peyton. When she's having a meltdown, suck it up. When she's excited about the little things, suck it up, pause the game and do a dance along with her."

"Don't I know it. Peyton is scary when emotional. Hey, maybe Jamie can be the ring bearer."

At that instant, Nathan's smile falters and a cloud of fear shadows his tired face. "He'd love that," he says in a strangled whisper. "Jesus, how the hell does shit like this happen to us?"

Lucas swallows down and before he can utter a word, Nathan cuts him off with a sharp look. "Don't even think of apologizing. Rotten luck is what it is. Can't wait to get away from it."

"Get away? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing. What did you mean, Nate? Nate. Nate?"

Nathan is focused on a couple on the sidewalk. The woman in the wheelchair has a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket in her arms, and the man is chatting with the nurse, nodding understandingly in intervals. The man raises his eyes, and they come in contact with Nathan's. He says something to his wife before stepping away, heading towards the bench.

"You know him?" Lucas asks, looking back and forth between his brother and the stranger.

"Not really."

Nathan sits up straight as the man stops two feet away from them, clearing his throat nervously before speaking.

"Hey."

"Hey. Going home?" Nathan asks courteously.

The man looks back over his shoulder at his wife, who is waving to the driver of a black sedan that's stopped beside them.

"Yeah." He sticks his hand out at them. "I'm Clive. Clive Michaels. That's my wife Edith and our newest, Annie."

"Congratulations," Lucas says after the introductions.

"Thanks." He turns to Nathan with a rueful look. "Listen, I, uh, I heard about your kid. I'm sorry."

He seems nervous, uncomfortable.

"Thanks," Nathan utters quietly in not more than a whisper, not looking into the man's eyes.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You just never know when—" Clive flushes, letting out a little laugh.

"I understand. I probably would have reacted the same way," Nathan says with a sincere, crooked smile.

There's a honk behind them and Clive takes a look over his shoulder. He holds out his hand. "Well, good luck to you. I hope everything works out."

"You, too," Nathan adds as they shake hands again.

"I'll need it," Clive smiles broadly, turns his back to them and jogs over to the car.

"Who was that?" Lucas asks as they watch them drive away.

"Our brother."

"What?"

"From another mother."

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Nice day, isn't it?"

They both tense up at the baritone, Lucas more than Nathan.

"Hello, boys."

Dan slips to sit between them, shrinking the space. As though he's ensuring that they won't get away, he says quickly, "We need to settle some matters."

"It's not the best time for this," Nathan states.

Dan turns his head to Nathan, brow twisted in a grouch. "When is it a good time, Nathan? Your brother hates me on sight, he leaves the room like to pack up a suitcase when I walk in, and he would rather be stung by jellyfish than talk to me. You're both here, and I'd like to take the opportunity."

Without awaiting a response, Dan faces Lucas, appearing a little uncertain and agitated. Nathan stares straight ahead. Lucas braces himself.

"I wasn't an ideal father to you or Nathan. For a long time, I've been _persona non grata_ to your lives and celebrations, and I have never passed judgment on any of you for it."

Dan pauses, as though turning over the next thing in his head. "I've owned up to my mistakes. I have hurt you in irreparable ways, and I ask for your forgiveness. I'm sorry that you went through all you did those years, you and your mother. You and I have an ugly, damaged past. I can't change it or repair it, Lucas, as much as I wish I could."

He lets out an audible sigh and adds unselfconsciously, "Lucas, I just want you to know that I'm not going to abandon you this time round. I'm not asking for Father's Day cards or for us to attend a game together, but I want you to know that I'm here to stay."

_Can you believe this shit?_ Lucas' scowling expression seems to be saying from the other side of the bench.

"What I'm saying, Lucas, is that from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry that I failed you and your mother."

Luke's lips thin into a straight line. After a year, he doesn't take unassailable pleasure in seeing Dan grovelling anymore. He says nothing. The heart of the situation is that his mother lived with anger, betrayal and degradation when she wanted to scream out her turmoil. When Dan resurfaced a year ago and showed up on her doorstep, she heard him out. She had found her peace from the hurt Dan had caused her through Andy and Lucy, and after so many years, she let it go. Lucas is still mortified about that.

"I hear where you're coming from," he starts straightforwardly, "but know that I don't understand. I will always hate you, Dan. More so for what you did to my mom than to me. Usually, when a man abandons his pregnant girlfriend and their child, he disappears without a backward glance in some dark corner. It would be easier to forgive a man who has just blown into town than the one who stays in the same town and treats them like trash and make them feel like pitiable idiots. That man shouldn't expect a second chance."

Dan, eyes downcast, nods sadly. Nathan's face burns with embarrassment, visualizing what it was like for Lucas and Karen to be in the same town as Dan.

"Me turning down your constant remorse and repentance has little to do with vengeance; I am just angry, embittered and cynical at the father I never knew, and there's no future with us with hope and healing. I'm around you for Haley, Nate and Jamie's sake, and they're the only ones that drive me to be around you. You're not a father I'd want, not now and not ever."

It doesn't throw Dan off for a second. He nods again, contemplative, and presses on with, "Then when the time comes, be the father you wanted. Don't repeat my mistakes. Be the dad your children deserve."

Lucas gives him a long, steady look, reading everything Dan has said. That was the last thing he expected to hear, advice about fatherhood. Shifting a little on the bench, his face seems overcome with tiredness. "I can't do this, Dan. If you'll excuse us, we have to go back in. We need to go."

Luke's abrupt tone doesn't sanction room for protest from Nathan. He follows his brother, but he finds himself looking back at Dan nonetheless with a curious glance. They don't exchange nary a smile, a nod or a blink.

"Am I being irrational?" Luke asks stiffly, his head slumping.

Nathan doesn't have to ponder for long to answer because he's been there with Dan. "No."

He has always been impressed by Luke's compassionate heart; it was big enough to accept him as his brother after all the shit he'd put him through. Dan's faults are too big to forgive, Lucas is brutally damaged by his rejection, and he can't accept the penitence.

Luke exhales deeply and rubs his hand over his face. They walk through the doors, and by the elevators, he says, "He's a monster. I hate him, Nate. I hate his face. I hate his eyes because they're mine. I hate his poor-me routine. I just hate him."

Nathan, to be supportive, claps a hand gently on his brother's rigid shoulder. Dan punished Luke for being born, and he made Luke feel less for existing. A cruel thing that Nathan can't rectify for his brother. "I know, man."

Luke has nothing but contempt in spades for Dan. His pain is deep, and they all understand it. Nathan always feels guilty for subjecting him to Dan's presence because of Haley and Jamie. He would like to cheer him up by telling him that when they leave North Carolina, he won't have to put himself through seeing Dan when he doesn't want to. He'll tell him soon enough.


	17. Chapter 17

"Well," Dr. Harris begins with a glorious smile, "we have successfully achieved a temperature of thirty-one-point-eight degrees after thirty-six hours."

The parents feel a surge of hope, yet they're quite nervous.

"Now we move on to the next phase of rewarming."

Fear piles on top of the nerves. Looking up as much as they could about the procedure, there were a lot of red flags about the rewarming.

"In this case, our target temperature at successful rewarming is thirty-six degrees within twelve hours. We will regulate all the devices and medications, while stabilizing him and ensuring that his body does not suffer any significant negative changes."

"Pneumonia?" Nathan raises softly, looking down as the bed sheet rises and falls with the slow rhythm of Jamie's breathing. His little person, his little guy, is going through something they had never heard of before.

"Pneumonia, elevated blood pressure, shivering," the doctor says kindly. "This is a very crucial stage. Rapid rewarming can cause rebounding and neurological relapse, so we have to do it gradually. We'll start at a rate of zero-point-two-five degrees per hour until his temperature is not more than thirty-six-point-five."

The doctor looks down at Jamie. "After that, we wait for him to wake up."

As the doctor leaves the room, Nathan takes Haley's hand. "I don't know how you did it, Hales."

"Did what?" she asks, running her thumb along his hand.

"Came to see me every day for all those months," he answers, shaking his head slightly, as if having a mental chat with himself. It takes a special kind of psychological strength to watch someone you love lay on a bed day after day.

She takes in a deep breath, resting her head on his shoulder. "Jamie."

Nathan closes his eyes, having a flashback to that time years ago when Jamie made it bearable for him to carry on without Haley. It's time to be there for him.

Afternoon rolls into evening, and then it's night-time. In those hours since they began the rewarming phase, they have removed the cooling helmet on Jamie's head, the cold-water mattress and blanket, and the IV tube with the saline solution.

"It's nice that your parents are here," Nathan says vaguely.

"It is," she agrees absently, scribbling intensely in her notebook.

He looks over her bent head, past the partly lowered blinds to the dark sky. Another day gone with Jamie still not awake. "Think they'll stick around for a while?"

"Mom said they would."

"Are you happy that they are?"

"Of course. It's been ages since we've seen them."

He smiles faintly to himself, pleased that their conversation bore some fruit and they'll be around when Haley needs them. "What are you writing?"

A grin plays across her lips but she doesn't look up. "I'm strategizing."

He chuckles softly. "Really?"

"There are so many things to do and I don't want to forget."

"We can't do it like when we were going to college?"

"Nope. We practically had nothing then. Now, we have some things and we can't take them all with us. Plus, there's the issue of where we're going to live when we get there."

"Are we jumping the gun here? I mean, what if they don't say yes?"

She pauses to look at him directly like there's no doubt in her mind. "They'll say yes. A drunk scout can tell you're an amazing player."

He smiles. "This is why you're my biggest fan."

"Jamie kicked me off to second place. Can you think of anything I've left out? You must think I'm crazy with all my list making."

Scanning the long list, Nathan chuckles and kisses the top of her head affectionately. "You're still sane enough for me."

Lucas walks into the room, carrying a large bouquet of orange roses and yellow sunflowers in a vase. "Am I interrupting something?" he asks in a quiet voice, holding the vase with both hands close to his chest.

Haley raises her head, straightening in the chair. "No. That is beautiful."

Lucas grins, laying the vase on the side table across the room to join the other flower arrangements from friends and well-wishers. "Unfortunately, it's not from me."

Dropping the notebook at the foot of the bed, Haley walks towards him, admiring the colourful bouquet. "Who are they from?"

"Fay and Leo."

"Your friends?" she asks, brushing her fingertips lightly on the soft petals.

"And Jamie's," he replies, his voice catching.

Her eyes narrow slightly in question.

"Leo was playing with Jamie when…"

He seems to blink hard, ridding himself of a bad memory. He clears his throat and finishes, "Fay is his mom. They were just delivered to the nurse's desk."

She buries her nose in them, breathing in the sweet smell. "They're beautiful." She shoots her husband a smile over her shoulder. "Honey, I think I want a flower garden."

"Do we need to sign you up for gardening lessons, too?" he teases.

She laughs cheerfully, "I don't think so. I mean, if I have you as my yard boy..."

Throwing him a wink, she picks up one of the older flower arrangements and heads towards the bathroom.

"Yard boy? I'm already teaching you about our car. How many more roles do you expect me to have?"

Haley pokes her head out of the bathroom to be heard over the running water. "As many as I want."

"What baby wants, baby gets," Nathan mumbles to Lucas from the corner of his mouth as she disappears into the bathroom.

Lucas guffaws before compressing his mouth shut.

"Did you say something?" she asks, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand.

"No. Are you brushing your teeth now?"

"They feel gross."

"You're going to brush away your enamel completely one of these days. And you're about to leave for home, anyway."

Incomprehensible sounds come from the bathroom.

"It's bordering on obsessive," he explains to Luke. "The most I've counted so far is five times in a day."

"It'll pass. She had a thing about washing her hands every second when we were in middle school before it faded. Does she still organize the kitchen drawers when she's annoyed?"

"Oh, yeah. Kinda drove my mom nuts over spring break when things were not where she'd left them."

"Bridezilla moments?"

"I see you're catching on."

"Save it, Nate."

"I will. Jamie's noticed it, too."

"Jamie's noticed what?" Haley asks, walking back into the room, the flowers now sitting in fresh water.

"That you're becoming a great mechanic," Nathan answers with a grin.

She rifles through her purse, pulling out a stick of lip balm. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Never," he says with a slight smile.

"How long have you two been married again?" Luke pipes with amusement.

"Six years," they answer together, faces breaking into smiles.

"Knock, knock."

They all turn their heads slightly in response as Skills sticks his head in.

"Hey, Scotts," he says, a fruit basket in his hands.

"Hey," they reply in unison.

"Thought I wouldn't make it 'cause of the traffic."

Placing the basket amidst the flowers, he notices the absence of the cooling devices that were there yesterday. "J-Luke is better."

Nathan nods, gazing down at Jamie. There's a hint of rouge tinting his chalky cheeks. The rewarming is working. "He does. Doctor said that he's responding well to the treatment."

During the doctor's last round, his temperature was up to thirty-three-point-five. On the right track.

"He'll be up and running in no time," Skills says, a subtle strain behind his words.

"Yes, he will," Haley agrees, straightening the blanket covering Jamie's legs. "Hear that, sweetie? Everybody's waiting to see you creating havoc."

The guys laugh quietly, the tension in the room easing.

"But not too much havoc, Jame, okay?" Nathan says, rubbing his thumb along the inside of Jamie's small wrist. It feels like another lifetime that only hours ago, Jamie's body was as cold as ice.

"What's this?" Lucas asks, picking up Haley's notebook, his eyes running up and down the open page. "Find realtor. Sort furniture. Rent U-Haul."

He raises his head, looking from side to side between Haley and Nathan. "Is someone moving?"

Husband and wife share a quick look that is not lost on Lucas. His eyes widen in surprise. "Are _you_ moving?"

Haley bites down on her lower lip before nodding slowly.

"What? Let me see that." Skills takes the notebook from Luke's limp hand, his eyes going over it just as rapidly. "For real?"

Lucas squints at Nathan reproachfully. "Is this what you meant when you were making those comments earlier?"

"Guys, this is not the time to talk about this," Nathan says softly.

"At least tell us what brought this on," Luke persists. "Your lives are here. Your family is here. Why move?"

Before either of them can respond, the night-shift nurse slips into the room quietly, announcing that visiting hours are over. She leaves the door open, retreating back to the hallway to make her rounds and alert the other visitors.

Nathan looks vacantly at the open door. "We'll talk later, Luke. I promise."

Luke nods briefly, a nameless dread harbouring somewhere in his conscience. They're moving. Probabilities are it's not to the neighbouring town or a state away; they're moving far.

"Do you want me to drive you home, Hales?" he manages to ask.

"Um, yeah, if you don't mind?"

"It's cool."

She knows he'll grill her about the move before they get to the parking lot. Grabbing her purse from where it lays at her feet, she pulls out the car keys and passes them to Nathan.

"I'll call you if…" he says before she can ask.

Her lips touch his. "Okay."

Her fingers brush lightly down the side of Jamie's face, her eyes teary as they roam over his comatose body.

"I love you, baby," she whispers in his ear before kissing his cheek and half his mouth. "Daddy's here with you and I'll come see you tomorrow, okay?"

She leaves a few more kisses, closing her eyes at the deep sadness in her soul, scared that this could be the last time that she…

"I…I should stay," she says hoarsely to her husband.

Nathan links their fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze. "It'll be alright, Hales. It's going to be alright."

She's nodding and sniffling, blinking to hold back the tears.

"Just go home, sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

He gives her a soft kiss, his lips hovering over hers. "Now go."

The elevator doors have not shut completely when Lucas says, "So you're moving."

She glances at both him and Skills. "Yes."

"Is it because of me? What I did to Jamie? You don't trust him with me?"

She simply hugs him. He's so tense that he's shaking. She regrets berating him when he told her about Jamie, and her words may have driven home the guilt for him. It's not a conversation he's bound to forget.

"No, Luke, it has nothing to do with you. You didn't do anything to Jamie or to us."

But she knows him; no matter what they tell him about it not being his fault, he will still blame himself.

"It has to do with this," she says gently, waving her hand around in talking about the hospital. "I'm twenty-two years old, Lucas. Since I got married, since I had my child, I have been in a coma, seen my husband in a coma, and now my son is a casualty, too. We are tired of crying at each other's bedside. We need a fresh start. Can you see that?"

Lucas, still shocked to learn that they're going to move away, pulls her into a fierce hug should he start pacing the empty elevator like a caged lion. She eases away so that she can see his face. He doesn't want to look too long into the brown eyes that have gone misty with tears because they give him too much pain. But she doesn't cry.

"We need some peace. We have talked about it, we have given it serious thought, and we want to raise our son in an environment where there are no echoes of hospital stays."

She smiles at Skills over Luke's shoulder. He smiles back at her; he's upset that they're moving away, but he doesn't show it as much as Lucas.

Taking Luke's hand from her shoulder, she sighs and shakes her head. "We need this, Lucas."

Nodding like he understands when he quite doesn't, he squeezes her hand, virtually too tightly. Slowly, he gets his head around it. They've coped with a lot and they're severely damaged by it all; it makes sense that they'd want some space. He just didn't think that either of them would ever leave again after they all came back to Tree Hill from college, and that Nathan and Haley would be the ones doing it.

Logically, they're not abandoning them, but there's an insane feeling he's getting that they are. It cuts straight to the deep-seated abandonment issues that centre on his biological father. It's a disturbing thought. Maybe he should start looking into the therapy that Nate spoke highly about.


	18. Chapter 18

Nathan stoops over the bathroom sink and turns on the tap. He cups his hands under the cold stream and splashes his face. Lifting his chin slightly, he studies his reflection in the mirror; he would do well in the mug shot of someone who spent the night painting the town red.

He can remember a time long ago that he felt this beat and corpse-like. His dark hair is in a state, his eyes have red streaks in them, and there are dark circles under his lids. There's a greyish pastiness to his face, giving him a sick, washed out and unhealthy appearance. The slight stubble on his chin tops it all off, making him look like a vagrant. It's no wonder Clive thought that he was shifty.

His gaze falls back to the running water, and he stares at his hands as they overflow with the liquid. Each breath feels heavier than the last, dragging down his body to a dark, bottomless pit. When will this be over?

He wasn't there for Haley through her coma. He never walked into a hospital every single day for months to see someone he loves unresponsive day after day. To watch Jamie fighting for his life for four days is tearing him up inside.

After a shave and dousing his face with more water, he pats his face dry with a towel and proceeds to brush his teeth. That done, he combs a hand through his hair and turns off the light. In the semi-darkness, he sighs as he grabs the door handle, already weary before the day has fully began. Another day of keeping vigil at his son's bedside.

An oddness in the room makes him pause by the door for a moment. There seems to be a deathly silence ringing in his ears. How is that possible when the machines were going at their ridiculous beeping dance a few moments ago?

His eyes scan the room anxiously, and then they widen in realization as his mind pieces the scene together. His pulse skyrockets from the astonishment. He knew it would happen eventually, but he was unprepared for it when it did happen.

Nathan blinks, making sure that his mind is not conjuring up a fictitious image. The machines are still beeping. The little face is still somewhat pale. The small body looks helpless as it lays absolutely motionless. But the eyes...

The blue eyes are open, staring unblinkingly at him. Nathan lets out a whoosh of air that he didn't know he was holding in, freeing his lungs of the burn. "Holy sh…Oh my God..."

A hundred different descriptions of relief, shock and gladness course through him. There's a huge uncontrollable grin on his face as tears begin to shimmer in his eyes. With a fairly bark-like laugh, he takes three long strides to the bed.

"H-hi, bud," he croaks hoarsely, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

At the voice of his father, Jamie starts to breathe heavily, his chest jumping rapidly. His eyes pool with tears, and a moan passes his lips against the breathing tube in his mouth.

"Hi. It's okay," Nathan says in a gentle voice, reaching blindly for the cord beside the bed and clicking on the button continually.

He wants to shout and scream for the nurse but he won't take the chance and startle Jamie. Jamie blinks slowly, tears falling over the corners of his eyes, to the sides of his face, to the pillow under his head. Gurgles pour out of him like he's trying to say something.

Heart hammering with joy and relief, Nathan stoops over and strokes his son's hair, kissing his forehead and cheek. "You're okay, Jame."

A whimpering sound from Jamie turns into a snuffle, and then deep sobs start to shake his small body. Strangling on his need to blub, Nathan can't help but press a kiss to his warm forehead again.

"It's okay," he mumbles over and over again in a tranquil voice. He pulls out a tissue from the box on the bedside table and dabs at Jamie's tears.

"You're at the hospital but you're alright."

A small hand reaches for the tube in his mouth but Nathan brushes it away gently. "No, no. Let's wait for the nurse first, okay?"

Jamie moans painfully again, his hand wrapping around Nathan's thumb and pressing urgently.

"I know, buddy, but we can't take it out unless the doctor says it okay."

He blinks, his fingers closing tighter over his father's thumb. In that moment, Nathan's made aware of the thought that he may have long since forgotten what Jamie's grip actually felt like.

"I'm not going anywhere," Nathan says with a smile, wiping at the tears in his son's eyes.

Jamie's calmed down when the nurse walks in. Nathan turns to look at her over his shoulder. "Could you please take the tubes out?"

"I can't do that until the doctor approves it," she says, smiling down at the child. "Hi, Jamie."

He looks at her curiously with wet eyes, and then his gaze drifts back to his father's. A gurgle passes his lips. Nathan smiles warmly, giving his hand a light squeeze.

"The doctor's coming to see you and he'll get it out, okay?"

The distraught child nods slowly. His eyes then scan the room, shifting from wall to wall in silent panic until they're swiftly back on Nathan's, a lost and confused look on his face. Another gurgle from him and he's crying again, blinking repeatedly as the tears fill his eyes. Nathan guesses that he's looking for Haley.

"Mama's going to be here soon, buddy."

* * *

><p>Haley steps off the bus at the stop leading to the beach. The air is crisp and biting so early in the morning, but over the course of the day, it's sure to get humid and stuffy.<p>

Slipping off her sandals, she carries them in her hand to trudge down the pier barefoot. Seagulls fly low and the sun is already rising, its rays glimmering above the ocean water. Two joggers whizz past as she gets to the bottom step, their cheeks puffing in and out in rhythm to their strides. The sand feels cool between her toes. As the waves crash gently at the shore, she heads closer to the ocean, letting the sea-froth lap around her feet.

She digs her toes momentarily in the spongy sand. She can almost hear Jamie shrieking in delight like he does when they do it. "_It tickles!"_

Tendrils of her hair come loose from her braid as the slight breeze picks up, leaving some strands sticking to her skin like a magnet. She walks along the shoreline slowly, a blend of peace and turmoil rolling in the pit of her stomach.

Her eyes downcast, she continues down the shore. She stops to pick up a small ivory seashell, wiping the sand off before tucking it away in the side pocket of her purse. Breathing in deeply, she pauses to look out into the ocean. Her gaze roams over the horizon as if looking for something. The memories dance around her mind, each one leaving cold fear in the depths of her heart.

When he was one, he liked to nap in the dryer. When he was two, he would tug at the hem of her shirt, raise his arms and say, "Mama, up." When he was three, he would plunge his head underwater during bath time. When he was four…He's still four. He's her four-year-old little boy and he's not doing okay.

The tears are inevitable, trailing down her cheeks like a dam that has suddenly burst forth.

* * *

><p>"We have to take a chest X-ray, check his blood pressure, and draw some blood to take a look at the gases."<p>

"How long will that take?"

"Not more than an hour, including getting the results."

The doctor turns to Jamie and in a quiet, soothing voice says, "I know you want the tubes taken out but we have to make sure that you're all better before we do that, okay?"

Jamie nods slowly, his hand still woven around his father's thumb.

"The nurse will take very good care of you."

He nods again, craning his neck to look at Nathan.

"I can tag along, right?" Nathan asks. "I don't want to leave him alone."

"Of course. I have already informed the X-ray department. You'll just head on down after the nurse draws his blood and takes his blood pressure."

* * *

><p>In a secluded grassy spot not far from where they got married, Haley spreads out the coverlet on the sand, laying back on it to look up at the sky. Only a few clouds dot the azure skies. Habitually, she looks for some figures in the clouds. In the first one, it's in the shape of a man who seems to be…missing a head?<p>

A nervous laugh passes her lips. "Well, that's not good."

* * *

><p>"Hold your breath…that's it…there. All done."<p>

A fit of coughing wracks Jamie's small body, so much so that Nathan is afraid that his bones are rattling and breaking loose.

"Great job, Jamie. Give him the water," the doctor instructs Nathan, passing the breathing tube to the waiting nurse. "I'll be back to check in on him shortly."

Nodding, Nathan rubs Jamie's back gently with one hand, holding the cup in the other and placing the straw over his lips. He drinks slowly, his eyes unwavering as they stare back at his father's.

"Better?"

He nods, taking a longer drink before loosening his lips from the straw. Placing the cup on the bedside table, Nathan leans back on the bed. Careful of the needle stuck to the back of Jamie's hand, he lifts his son slowly to sit him on his lap. Jamie rests his head back on his chest, the rapid beating of his father's heart making him feel calmer.

"Daddy…" he rasps weakly.

If it's not the best thing he's ever heard. Nathan kisses his forehead as he rubs his hair. He feels like bursting into a loud, joyous chorus, but he can't sing. "I'm here."

Jamie closes his eyes, snuggling in. "Where's Mommy?"

* * *

><p><em>"Hey."<em>

Her shoulder is shaken so insistently that it brings her out of a warm, blissful nap.

_"Are you okay?"_ a masculine voice asks, the words slicing through her semi-conscious state.

She nods, sleep muddling her thoughts. The deep voice laughs nervously. "Thank God! I thought you were dead!"

"What?" she asks groggily, straining to see against the sunlight. A figure hovers above her, blocking out most of the sun from her eyes.

"You haven't moved since I saw you an hour ago. I was about to call the cops."

Haley jerks upright, sleep gone as she scans her surroundings. Her focus is sharpening as she makes out groups of people sitting around and enjoying the summer sun. "An hour?"

Glancing down at her watch, she curses mentally. An hour and a half has passed since she got to the beach.

"Yeah. Good thing you're wearing jeans or you'd be seriously sunburned. Sure you're okay?"

Scrambling to gather up her things, Haley pushes herself to her feet. "Yes. Thank you," she says over her shoulder before tearing down the beach, frantic that she's been off the grid for so long.

* * *

><p>"Your family's sizeable," the nurse says wittily as she scribbles on the clipboard.<p>

Nathan nods, looking down at Jamie. It reminds him of the days he was a baby and he'd hold him the same way until he fell asleep. "He's the baby. Is it okay that he has visitors?"

"Just as long as they don't stay too long. He's weak and he needs to rest."

"Has Mama come?" Jamie asks softly.

Nathan looks over at the nurse, who shakes her head slightly. Haley hasn't replaced her cell phone yet. Her mom told him that she left the house early this morning. There is no way to reach her.

"She's not here yet but she's on her way," he answers, rubbing his hair gently, wondering where she could be for the thousandth time.

* * *

><p>The crowd in the room makes Haley stop in her stride. She becomes hesitant about going further. Through the window's blinds, she can see the familiar faces surrounding the bed, all looking down at it. And it scares the hell out of her.<p>

Movement near the window shows Brooke daubing at her eyes and then her nose. At that instant, it's like a frozen knife goes through her chest, tugging, twisting and twirling around her heart from whichever way. She can't go in.

She whimpers, turns away numbly, and whirls out of there. Everything spins and turns as she staggers towards the elevator. Her legs are shaking, and they feel too weak to support her. She's breathless and light as air, floating right out of her body.

The elevator opens, and with difficulty, she stumbles into it. Someone grabs her by the arm, holding her upright. "Whoa. Are you okay?"

She opens her mouth to answer but nothing comes out. She can hardly think. In a haze, she nods, leaning against the wall of the elevator. Her fingers grip her purse and the rail tightly against the spasms of horror.

Her wobbly legs and dazed mind lead her out drunkenly into the hallway when the elevator shudders to a stop. The scar on her abdomen is on fire. Everything is foreign and meaningless. Her head shakes from side to side in denial and disbelief. She's in suffocating tears as she plops down on a pew, feeling shattered of every bit of strength she thought she had. He's gone. Her baby is gone.

She wants to howl and scream. There's a deep physical ache in her chest. Fresh tears of pain spill over the old ones. Her voice quivers as she mumbles to herself over and over again. She just sees Jamie's face, nothing else crossing her mind.

"What are you doing here?"

Her head is full and heavy, but she looks up. She blinks slowly to see past the tears stinging her throat, eyes and face. "L-L-Luke?"

He moves to sit beside her, his arm going around her shoulders. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Haley crumbles, exploding into more wild sobs. How can he ask so callously as to how she is when her world has just gone straight to the depths of hell?

She trembles violently as the pain shakes her. A million daggers are stabbing into her heart, breaking her apart little by little.

"You should be happy, Hales," he says worriedly, rubbing her arm up and down in comfort. She looks terrible.

She tries to talk through her sobs, her hands over her face as the tears flow. "That m-my s-son is g-gone?" she rasps, her throat thick, every word heavy and painful.

"What?" he asks in surprise. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She shakes her head back and forth, releasing herself slowly from him. "Everyone…crying…Jamie…"

As he tries to make sense of her choppy sentences, it dawns on him just what she is talking about. He turns to face her fully and puts his hands firmly on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "Haley, everyone is crying because Jamie's awake."

She stiffens, like a bucket of ice-cold water has been thrown over her. Her shoulders heave with a hiccupped sob. She looks at him, her teary eyes round as grapefruits. For a moment, she just stares at him. "W-what?"

"He's awake," he grins.

"B-but…h-he…I…" she stutters, her voice barely a whisper, the backs of her hands brushing tears quickly from her cheeks.

Lucas smiles at her broadly in compassion, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "He woke up."

Her lower lip starts to tremble and with a coarse laugh, she flings her arms around his neck. She should be arrested for thinking such a heinous thing about Jamie. "Oh my God! I am such a fu—an idiot!"

She pulls away from him, her hands gripping his arms. The tears are gone and despite her flushed, puffy face, she's glowing with happiness and relief. "When? When did he wake up?"

"Early this morning. No one knew where you were. We couldn't call because you still don't have a phone. Where were you?"

"I—"

She leaps to her feet and starts rushing towards the doors. "I'll talk to you later!" she calls out, wanting to scream at the top of her lungs from gratitude.

Furious with herself for jumping so quickly to the most horrible conclusion, she runs as fast as she can down the hallway towards the elevator, adrenaline pulsating through her. The distance between her and the elevator seems to stretch out, getting longer and longer with every sprint.

"Sorry!" she throws over her shoulder at the scowling orderly she bumps into, unable to stop the giddy grin.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him scowl further. Her palm slams into the elevator buttons repeatedly. Nervous sweat glistens on her brow as she shuffles from foot to foot, waiting for the elevator to answer her summons.

Wanting badly to run to the fifth floor, her feet are ready to head for the stairs when the elevator's doors slide open. There's no crowd making an exit.

Her heart beats strongly as the doors close behind her. She paces the small space, the urge to fly through the walls and throw her arms around her little boy going through her like a hurricane. Thankfully, the elevator passes the first floor without stopping. It doesn't slow down on the second floor, either.

"Come on, come on," she mutters softly, breathing out and looking up at the digital buttons.

The elevator chimes, making its stop at her destination. She feels suddenly sluggish stepping out of it. Her heart is racing triple the usual speed as she takes one step after another in the quiet unit. Her throat feels dry, her mind numb, and she feels like she's soaked in a cold sweat. Involuntarily, she turns her head towards the waiting area. The familiar faces she ran from earlier are there, and she gives them all a tiny, uncertain wave. The sea of faces smile and wave back cheerfully in return. She wants to burst out laughing at assuming the absolute worst. Or crying. He's okay.

Her body is shaking as she slowly walks down the hospital corridor, her eyes fixated on the last door on the right. She chides her silliness over being nervous. Stopping a few feet away from the room, she pushes open the half-opened door with a trembling hand.

Nathan is murmuring to Jamie, and her first reaction is that he's embracing Jamie in the same way she's wanted to for days. She's frozen in place as she looks down at the bed, at Nathan stretched out beside Jamie, holding him close to his side. Jamie's lips move in answer to Nathan, but she can't hear what it is they're really saying. They both look up at her loud breathlessness.

Her lower lip starts to tremble and a tremor shakes her frame as her prickly eyes roam over her son, her greatest treasure.

His face brightens, his mouth turning into a wide, vibrant, toothy grin as he extends his arms out to her. "_Mommy!_"

It's the little voice she'd been missing and dreamt about for days.

"Oh my God…"

With an ecstatic smile, she races across the room, needing to hold him and hug him and make sure that he's really alright. "Hi, baby! Oh my God…"

His little arms lock around her neck when she leans over, hanging tightly onto her as she wraps her arms around his small body. "Mommy, you came!"

She's in tears as she kisses the side of his face, pulling him up to sit him on her lap. "Of course I did!"

Crying hysterically, she hugs him tight, relief coursing through her, afraid of letting him go. It's ethereal and comforting to feel him warm again. Alive.

"Let me take a look at you!"

She pulls away from him gently, her hands framing his face. He looks pale and tired, but he's alright. He's awake. A couple of kisses on his cheeks and lips leave him giggling. "I missed you so, so much!"

Her teary eyes meet with Nathan's over the top of Jamie's head and with just that look, plenty is said. She reaches a hand out for his and he takes it, putting his arms around both of them in a sheltering cuddle.

"I missed you, too, Mama. Can we go home now?"


	19. Chapter 19

It's another hot July day. Even with the summer heat, everyone seems to be in good spirits.

There's a big crowd out in the backyard, talking, laughing and milling around freely in their small clusters. Big multi-coloured balloons and streamers that are tied to bushes and trees decorate the yard, with some swaying in the breeze from where they rest on the four-foot fence surrounding the pool.

The large colourful banner hanging high between the tallest trees reads "Happy Birthday, Jamie!" in bold letters. In one corner, kids are playing in a bouncy castle, while in the other, barefoot children in party hats and swimsuits are enjoying themselves around a sprinkler. Others are running around the yard, chasing each other while puffing on blowers. A long buffet table covered with food, drinks, paper plates, cups and utensils sits under the shade of a white tent. There's a stack of gifts resting at the end of it, waiting for the moment the birthday boy will rip them open. Music plays at a low volume, and no one has to scream or shout to be heard over any blaring songs. It's a low-key party that's brought friends and family together to celebrate something – someone – amazing.

"That soon?" Lucas asks in disbelief. "Why?"

Before answering, Nathan looks past Lucas for Haley, seeing her chatting with Lydia and Rebecca at the food table. She's a beautiful sight. In appreciation, his eyes travel up his wife's bare shapely legs, to the denim shorts accentuating her hips, to the white tank that fits perfectly around her slender waist and superb breasts. From here, it's like they're begging for his hands to cup them. Or her terrific, perfect ass.

"Earth to Nate," Lucas says, snapping his fingers in his brother's face.

He blinks slowly, still staring at his wife. "What?"

Lucas gazes back and forth between Nathan and the source of his trance. "Are you being disgusting again? There are children around, for Christ's sake."

"You're lucky that there are children around," he says, catching her eye.

She wiggles her fingers at him, the diamonds in her wedding ring sparkling under the sun's rays. _Having fun?_ she mouths to him. He grins and raises his cup in salute.

"I wish you'd stop saying shit like that around me," Luke gags.

"I think it's damn fine that Nate and Haley still go at it like rabbits," Skills adds with a crooked grin.

Lucas gags again. Nathan laughs, slapping Skills' shoulder. "Rabbits?"

"Rabbits. Bunnies."

"I think I'm going to throw up," Mouth grimaces.

Skills snorts. "Right. This coming from the guy who was caught with his di—"

"Okay, enough of the guy talk and back to the topic at hand," Mouth cuts in, turning to a smirking Nathan. "Why are you leaving so soon?"

"It's going to take some time to get all the way across the country and settle."

"But three weeks?"

"Going to miss me, big brother?" he asks playfully.

Lucas grunts, downing a gulp of his drink. "You, I won't miss, but by the time I see Jamie, he'll probably be shaving and breaking his voice."

"If he's a late bloomer like me, he won't be shaving for a very long time."

"I hope that extends to the dating, too. Heard you started socializing early."

"You heard wrong."

"Hiding your past from your son, Nate?"

"You know it."

"Is he doing okay?" Mouth asks, looking over at the bouncy castle where Jamie is talking with Brooke.

Nathan watches his son. The legs peeking out of the shorts seem bonier and thinner in his eyes, like every bit of health in them was drained during his hospital stay. "Yeah. He's pretty much the Jamie we know."

Over the days he's been home, like nothing heart stopping happened, literally, he's back to his normal self, back to being the old Jamie: energetic, chatty, playful, and happy as a peach.

"And the move? Have you told him about it?"

"Already did. He's been separating his things into piles."

"Three weeks. So soon, man," Luke says with a shake to his head.

"The school year starts in a little while. My mom knows someone who knows a realtor there and they're helping us find an apartment. We'll need time to settle in, find a good school for Jamie, and Haley has to follow up on her teaching job."

"You'll be coming down for summer though, right?" Skills chimes in.

"That's the plan. If my mom had to write up a signed agreement for this move, that would be a clause in the contract."

"Daddy!"

Six days before his birthday, Jamie was discharged from hospital. He can't remember what led up to his hospitalization, just as far as going to the beach with his uncle Lucas and playing with Leo.

"Miller's here! Did you see him?"

Miller is right behind, Jamie dragging him by the hand. He's not bald anymore, the growing bristles of his tight haircut reflecting light on his scalp. The black plugs in his ears have been replaced with round diamond studs. "How's everyone doing?"

"Miller. Thanks for coming, man."

"Thanks for inviting me. I actually didn't even know our towns were so close."

Nathan introduces him around, and in less than a minute, Haley is calling his name from the other side of the yard. And she's with Rebecca. He silently wishes Miller luck, more for his wife's enthusiasm than in meeting Rebecca.

Jamie throws his arms around his father's legs and looks up at him with a glowing expression. "Daddy, I wanna swim."

And he certainly has no problems with large bodies of water. His parents, on the other hand, are nervous and wary about letting him swim.

Nathan strokes his hair. "Not today, buddy."

"How come? It's really, really hot and I really, really wanna swim."

"It's to keep the kids safe."

"I'm five! I can keep the kids safe!"

"I know, but when all of you are in the pool, it can be hard to keep an eye on you. You're all hyper monkeys."

He bursts into a hearty little boy's laugh, burying his face into his father's thigh. "I'm not a monkey!"

"Yes, you are. How about you join Leo at the sprinkler? He looks like he's having a really great time."

He lifts his head back, showing all of his teeth. "Can I have cake first?"

Nathan bends over, reaching for the hem of Jamie's shirt to help him out of it. "After you blow the candles. We can swim tomorrow when all the other monkeys are gone."

Jamie giggles again, his small hands covering his mouth. "Okay."

"Are you having fun with your friends?"

As he watches father and son, Lucas has an urge to pick Jamie up and give him a bone crushing Lydia-hug. For what felt like years during the time that Jamie was in hospital, he hoped every day that his nephew would wake up with a 'gotcha!' and start howling with laughter.

"Think you should tell Nate about the shit business?" Skills asks from the side of his mouth.

Lucas almost jabs him hard in the ribs with his elbow. "Seriously, Skills?"

"Shit business?" Mouth echoes curiously.

They may be speaking quietly, but Jamie doesn't miss it. "Daddy, did you hear?" he says excitedly as he wiggles his head out of the t-shirt. "Uncle Lucas taught me something!"

"He did?"

"Shit! And Jimmy Cricket!"

Still crouched down, Nathan looks up at his brother. His brow dips and his eyes narrow. "He did what?"

Lucas smiles sheepishly, the ground suddenly becoming something of interest to look at.

"Mama's gonna be happy that I know my words."

"Oh, sh…" Lucas mutters under his breath.

"Go on, Jame," Nathan says with a pat to his little behind, and when he's out of earshot, he turns on his brother. "The fuck, Luke?"

Luke scratches the back of his neck in that hangdog way. "It just slipped, okay? Road rage, and it was hot out."

"Do you know what it took for me to get him to stop cursing the last time?"

"What last time?"

Nathan presses his lips together, looks in Haley's direction. Lucas catches on. "She doesn't know?"

"Haley's pretty good at keeping a lid on the cursing around him, but me? Not so much. I invoked the Guy Code on him because he learned how to say fuck from me. And she won't know, will she?" Nathan says in a threatening way.

Luke hesitates. "Can you invoke the Guy Code on this one again?"

Nathan grips his shoulder like he's pleased with the response. "I'm glad we're on the same page. I would hate enjoying hurting you."

* * *

><p>"What did I miss?" Haley asks, plopping down on the couch with a bowl of freshly microwaved popcorn.<p>

Nathan raises his head, turning to her sleepily. "What?"

She laughs softly, popping several kernels in her mouth before setting the bowl on the table. Everyone else has gone to bed. The house has mostly been cleared of party baubles. Jamie's gifts are in a corner of the living room, including the brand-new red Hot Wheels tri-scooter lying on its side. It was a good day.

"Tired?"

He groans, resting his head back on the couch. "Exhausted. My jaws hurt."

She laughs again, reaching to rub her hand along his jaw. "And I thank your jaws for helping in blowing up those balloons."

It's his turn to laugh, a low and throaty sound. "It was worth it, though. And you must be proud of yourself."

"I don't know what you're referring to," she mutters quietly, her gaze somewhere behind him.

He snorts softly; she knows exactly what he's referring to. "Miller and Rebecca."

"Oh. Them."

"Them."

She clears her throat. "Well, you have to admit that they hit it off. They clearly had chemistry all around. They could be really good together."

Her smile is smug, and he doesn't say what he's really thinking for not wanting to erase it. When something goes wrong between a pair that is really good together, none of them are ever ready for the heartbreak. He has been there.

"I admit it," he says instead.

Jamie shifts in his arms, turning his head to face his mother. A small breath passes his slightly parted lips. His legs are draped over Nathan's lap, arms over each side of his waist, head on his chest, softly snoring away. He was exhausted after a day spent playing with his friends and stuffing his face with cake, falling asleep following his nightly bath. He's five. The years are flying too fast.

"You think he's going to be okay after all that happened?" she whispers, gently brushing Jamie's wispy hair. She has kept close to him since he left the hospital, watched him with a combination of gratitude and fear.

"He will. He's definitely not scared of water."

"Is that good?"

"Good that he's not afraid of what caused him to go into a coma that required him to be iced up like a Popsicle?"

"Well, yes."

"Kids are tough, Hales. As much as my mom describes the pain I was in when I had appendicitis, I can hardly remember any of it. Only the ice-cream part."

Haley laughs, resting her head on his shoulder and linking her arm through his.

"I'm just afraid, Nathan," she admits quietly after a stretch of time, watching the television flicker with changing images.

Jamie has been home for a week but she can't get over the worry, fear and panic that's been troubling her since he woke up.

"Of what?"

"That I'll end up locking him away from the world to keep him safe. I'm afraid that I'll get so crazy about every little thing that can go wrong whenever he leaves the house that I'll turn into an obsessive parent. I'm afraid that…that I'll be so scared for him that it will scare him, too, and then mess him up."

Nathan leans his cheek on the top of her head for a long moment. "When you died, it got to a point that I was barely leaving the house. I didn't want Jamie out of my sight. I didn't want to leave him for a few hours with Karen at the café or my mom or anyone. I was afraid that for that time I was gone, something would go horribly wrong and he'd be taken away from me, too."

She's looking at him in incredulity, the first she's hearing of it. "What?"

He lets out a small sigh. "The fear itself was terrifying. Some nights I'd sleep in the nursery just to make sure that he was okay. Anyway, so one day it was really sunny and I thought I'd take him to the park. I mean, it had been a long time since the sun had come out and every day just seemed to be unending, cold and windy. I was pushing him on the swing and then this group of kids ran past. They were laughing and shrieking, happy little kids, and at that moment, it was like getting slapped by reality. I realized that projecting my fear onto Jamie was insane, and I didn't have a right to lock him away like I was just because I was afraid. I had promised myself that I wouldn't mess up my child before he was born but I was already walking down that road."

He laces his fingers with hers. "I think that fear is part of being a parent, Hales. It makes sense to make up excuses every time he asks us to take him to the beach after what happened. But eventually, it gets better. It gets better because we want him to grow up healthy. It gets better because we want him to be happy and carefree like a kid should be."

"What if I never get there? What if this is it for all our sanities?"

Chuckling lightly, he strokes his thumb over her knuckles. "It's not. You let him dip his feet in the pool earlier."

"Didn't you see the leash I'd put on him?" she grins, making him laugh.

"I just…I don't know what I'd do if I lost any of you," she adds with a slight quiver in her voice.

"Have I told you how glad I am you were raised from the dead?"

"Once or twice. Have I told you how glad I am you woke up from your coma?"

"Once or twice," he grins.

Neither of them is particularly interested in the movie anymore and they sit as they are, grateful that their little tribe is together again.

"Peyton and Lucas are getting married," Haley says.

"They are?"

She rolls her eyes slightly. "Your fake surprise face is terrible, honey. You knew? Why didn't you tell me?"

"And ruin it for you? Luke told you, huh?"

"Peyton. Any more secrets you're keeping from me?"

"I have a date with Karen tomorrow night."

She swats his arm playfully. To think that a few weeks ago they were in a plane crash and their son fell into a coma is astonishing. These Scotts beat the odds on survival to an impressive degree.

"So. Santa Cruz."

"Santa Cruz."

"It's a done deal, right? They won't renege?"

"A very promising deal. Minor league but it's still the NBA."

Her hand cups his cheek and she pulls him down for a kiss. She's proud of him with every fibre of her being. She regards him closely when they pull apart, the tips of her fingers caressing his jaw. "Are you happy? That it's not the major league?"

His hand covers hers, lowering it and kissing the centre of her palm. "Getting picked to play pro, being invited to play in any major or minor league, is just…it's incredible."

Watching his face light up as he says it makes her happy.

"I'm happy, Hales. It's not just because of the game but with Jamie here…"

Her fingers knit with his. "I know. But if they go back on their word, I'll cause some havoc of my own."

"I do like it when you're in my corner."

"Always. You want me to take him up to bed?"

"Nah. I'll do it. I'm too comfortable to move."

"Daddy's boy."

"You missed the kiss he gave me."

Laughing, she rises up from the couch. "Was it one of the wet ones he'd blow when he was a baby?"

"Somehow, it landed on my chin and the corner of my mouth. I can't believe he's five."

She finds the relationship they have to be something beyond wonderful. Taking into consideration how Nathan was brought up by Dan with an iron fist, the closeness he shares with Jamie is truly remarkable.

She bends over to kiss the top of Jamie's head, the aroma of his bath wash carrying under her nose. She trails her fingers on his soft cheek. "The teen years are getting close and I miss him already."

"He'll still love you in his own hormonal way," Nathan replies with a grin.

"I feel so much better," she chuckles. "I'm going to run a bath."

With a wink, she asks, "Want to join me? I could help those jaws."

"Two minutes. I'll be there in two minutes," he says quickly, already reaching for the remote.


	20. Chapter 20: The conclusion

**When I began the Nathan/Haley/Jamie series, it wasn't mean to be a series at all. _Feather in the Wind_ was simply to be a story about Nathan coping with Haley's absence, and from there, the "what ifs" became quite a few. Two more stories had to be written for Haley and Jamie. And now here we are :)**

**I do hope that you have enjoyed the series. I sure liked writing them!**

**Until the next crazy tale,  
>AC <strong>

* * *

><p>"Call to let us know how it's going, okay?"<p>

"We will, Mom."

"Are you sure you can drive while dragging that thing behind?"

"It's just a U-Haul. I can do it."

"Do you have enough food?"

"Yes. You packed most of it, remember? And thank you for the dinner yesterday. It meant a lot."

"One last family dinner before you disappear."

"We're not disappearing. We'll visit and you can visit any time you want."

"Hopefully you'll come back before I die."

"Jesus Christ, Mom."

"Please don't swear, Nate."

"I swear to God, Haley, that if you don't keep in touch, there'll be hell to pay."

"I'm going to miss you, too, Luke."

"You can't miss the wedding. I know that we haven't set a date but it wouldn't be the same without you."

"Of course I wouldn't miss it. I know there'll be hell to pay if I do."

"I'm glad you're aware of it. Drive carefully and—"

"—call you every day until we get there. You've said that a thousand times already."

"Don't get moody. I'm just looking out for you. Santa Cruz is not exactly Durham. You're not next door."

"Moody? That's Peyton's job."

"I'm right here, geek."

"I'm going to miss you so much, Peyt."

"I promised not to cry but you're…"

"I'm sorry…"

"You guys! Don't get weepy!"

"One more group hug, Brooke?"

"I can't believe this. I come home for good and then _you_ are leaving for good. How am I supposed to be a godmother when my godson is in another time zone?"

"Video, email, phone calls…"

"Like we've always done it. Where is he?"

"Getting a pep talk from Skills."

"Watch out for the girls in Cali, J-Luke."

"Girls are yucky."

"For now they are but when you're my age, they won't be yucky anymore."

"Leo's mama is not yucky?"

"No, she's not."

"I don't think my mama's yucky."

"Neither do I. If you ever need anything, I'm just a phone call away, okay?"

"Okay. Even you, Uncle Mouth?"

"Even me. I'm going to miss you, Jamie."

"Jame, time to go."

"I promise I'm going to take care of Mama and Daddy!"

"Alright. Give me that hug."

"Hales, we gotta get going."

"I'll be right there. Let's think of this as a see you later than a goodbye, alright?"

"If see you later is a year from now."

"Brooke…"

"You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that we should have gone on that road trip we'd always talked about back in high school. But then Haley here took off on a train and died."

"Road trip, Jame," Nathan says, tugging at the belts of the booster seat. "Are you excited?"

Jamie claps his hands enthusiastically. "I wanna see cows again!"

"You probably will."

"Can we take pictures?"

"Of course. But no riding this time. Ready to go?"

"I'm ready. Are we going without Mama?"

"We would never leave your mom behind. She's just saying bye to everyone."

"Why is everyone crying? Grandma Deb was crying when she hugged me."

"She's going to miss you, bud."

"Are we going away forever?"

"Not forever but for a while."

"I think I needed a laugh like that. Peyton, will you stop snorting?"

"I'm sorry! You said that Haley died!"

"I seriously don't know what to do with you sometimes. Nate is looking impatient."

"I know that look. He may just leave me or haul me over his shoulder—"

"Haley, come on! Let's go!"

"Coming! Thanks for everything, guys. I promise to stay in touch."

"Daddy, can I have a juice box? I'm thirsty."

"Blackcurrant or raspberry?"

"Raspberry. No! Blackcurrant!"

"Are you sure?"

"Raspberry! I want raspberry! That tickles!"

"It's not me. It's the cooler at your feet."

"I saw your fingers!"

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did!"

"Ralph didn't see anything."

"He can't talk!"

"If he pees, it's all on you."

"We were just about to leave without you, Hales."

"Funny."

"Mama, can we go to California now?"

"Yes. You ready?"

"Ready!"

"Hey, Nate. A word?"

Nathan leans his head out of the window to speak to Lucas.

"Sweetie, where are your shoes? And your pants?"

A gift from Dan, he's only wearing the black and orange Tigers jersey top that was Nathan's when he was the same age.

"This thing with Dan, I'm beginning to sort it out."

Jamie chews on his lower lip, a habit that he has picked up from his father. "I dunno."

"You were wearing them five minutes ago."

Nathan grips his brother's arm. "You're not ruling out counselling anymore?"

"I'm hot, Mama. They made me really, really hot."

"Did they?"

He nods his head vigorously, taking a long sip through the straw. She can see his shorts sticking out from where they are behind his seat.

"Daddy said it's okay to be naked."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

"I'm not ruling it out. Peyton found a good therapist."

"Fine, but no leaving the car without shoes or pants, okay?"

"Okay. Mommy, can I have my glasses now?"

She pulls the blue and orange-framed sunglasses out of her purse, adjusting them over his nose and ears.

"Thank you."

"You look like a rock star."

"I do?"

"You just need a guitar and a microphone."

"And pants," he giggles.

She laughs with him, happy to have him back, his childlike laugh beautiful music to her ears. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay. But I'm tired."

The exhaustion is a side effect of the treatment and the medication he's on, but the doctor said that it's temporary and will eventually go away after he completes his dosage.

"You want to sleep?" she asks, rubbing his soft bare leg.

"Very much. Will you wake me when you see the cows?"

"Of course," she smiles.

Slipping his head back in to start the car, Nathan looks back and forth between his wife and son. "Alright, another Scott family trip. Are we set?"

"We're set," Haley nods, her face turning solemn as she lifts her hand to wave goodbye.

A fresh tide of sadness crests, chipping away at her bravado. The dinner they all had together last night was tearful and melancholic, and she thought she'd at least be able to handle the goodbyes better today.

Her mother blows them a kiss as her father stands beside her, his hand lifted up in the air. Allan has his arm around a crying Deb, stroking her arm in comfort. Peyton and Brooke cling to each other, sniffling and blinking back tears. Lucas is nearby, smiling tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. She'll miss him most of all, her first best friend, the man she's known since she was eight, a player in the game of her life to what it is now. As much as video chatting, emails and phone calls will bridge the distance between them, the finality of leaving them all behind is heart wrenching.

Nathan's cool fingers take her hand, holding it to his lips. "Together, Hales."

Her gaze falls to their joined hands before resting on his face, tears burning at the back of her eyes. "Always and forever, right?" she asks softly, managing a slight smile.

"Always and forever," he says with a wink, then looks at his son in the rearview mirror. "Want to say bye to everyone again, Jame?"

"Bye, everyone! We'll miss you!" he shouts, leaning forward in the booster to wave to them as the car eases down the driveway slowly.

They laugh, huddled together as they are, sombre looks on their faces. Haley's face breaks into a shaky smile as her teary eyes land on each one of them, the family, friends and supporters they're leaving behind in their hometown of Tree Hill, North Carolina; Karen, Andy and Lucy. Peyton, Brooke and Lucas. Skills and Mouth. Dan and Mary Jo. Keith and Jules. Deb and Allan. Lydia and Jimmy. May and Royal.

"It's gonna be fun, Mommy."

With one final wave, she looks over her shoulder at Jamie, blinking before she starts bawling.

"I promise," he grins. Her little love.

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart."

She laughs shakily through her unshed tears, leaning her head back on the headrest and turning to look at her husband. "An adventure, right?" she whispers, caressing his knee where her hand rests.

"An adventure," Nathan repeats, smiling back at her as he pulls off the driveway and onto the street to start their journey to a new life.

Away they go, their family and friends waving farewell as long as they can see the car, until it's out of their view, until it turns the corner to the main road and disappears into the distance.

* * *

><p><strong>-El Final!<strong>


End file.
